Orange
by Satan's Sweeties
Summary: Orange: a secondary color created by mixing the primary colors red and yellow. Collection of Mello/Matt stories; as such, it will contain shounen-ai/yaoi, strong language, and general awesomeness-it's Mello and Matt, awesomeness in its purest form.
1. The incident

It should be known that just because you'd never had your first kiss even though you were seventeen, did nothing but play videogames day and night, had a grand total of one really good friend that you'd known since like, forever, and got a rash every time you talked to girls, doesn't make you lame. In fact, isn't that what every girl wanted in a man? For him to be sensitive, shy, and caring? To not be afraid to show his vulnerable side?

Well, apparently not, because if so, Matt would've been a fucking ladies' man. He was all that and more; unfortunately, his social status left much to be desired. Most people couldn't even imagine how in the hell he could have any friends, especially one that was a social butterfly like Mello.

Mello was outgoing, persistent, good-looking, had a great sense of humor, and was all around loved by many. The blond was very rarely found without a bar of Hershey's in his hand, and when he was everyone knew to stay away, for hell was sure to come if the addict didn't receive his drug, and fast. He was smart, competitive, a great talker, and a complete and total badass; oh yeah, he was the total package, the crème de la crème, the best there was.

Matt, on the other hand, preferred to stand in the background, blending in rather than standing out and interacting with others. Though he may put off a shy, timid aura, Mello knew first-hand what a fun-loving, energetic bombshell the redhead was when nobody was around. The gamer himself said that he's only himself around Mello, but wouldn't elaborate further as to why only Mello.

It wasn't until _the incident_ that Matt really started to come out of his shell.

The day of _the incident_ started off like any other: Matt got up, showered, got dressed, and headed to the hellhole known as high school for yet another boring, uneventful day. It wasn't until after school that things fell out of their routine. You see, in the everyday morning grind Matt had forgotten his house key, ending up locked out of his own house; fortunately, he noticed that he had left his bedroom window open and decided to climb up the tree next to the house to reach it.

"HOLY SHIT!" he screamed, foot slipping on a branch as he fell through the leaves, getting smacked in the face by branch after branch; before he met his untimely demise, however, God reached out and caused the redhead to catch his ankle in a branch, and while this action may have saved his underused life it also left him hanging mercilessly.

"Oh God, you clumsy ass," Mello mock-scolded as he walked by Matt's house and detoured over to where his friend was hanging, observing the presented situation with a hand on his hip. "Damn, you look like you're really stuck there, Mattie. Guess there's only one thing to do now…" He trailed off, looking at Matt suggestively though the oblivious redhead paid the look no mind.

"Um, help me down?" the gamer asked hopefully, wondering why Mello was getting so close to him.

"Mmm, nope," the blond answered, pressing his mouth against the other boy's with a silent determination. All rational thought left Matt's mind and all that bothered him was the fact that he wasn't kissing back and, as he pressed back, for a moment he was able to forget that this was Mihael Keehl, his very male best friend of fifteen years. It didn't matter to him that all the blood rushing to his head was going to make him pass out, it didn't matter to him that he'd lost his first kiss to another boy, and it certainly didn't matter that said other boy was Mello, because this was fucking awesome; Matt couldn't prevent the moan in the back of his throat as Mello's tongue slid along the inside of his bottom teeth, sending shivers down (or perhaps up, due to his current position) his spine at the contact.

All of Matt's wiggling and readjusting loosened his ankle from the branch it was stuck in, and he promptly landed face-first on the grass, lifting his head up and spitting out clumps of grass and dirt. "Unnnngghh…ow…"

His emerald eyes widened as he realized what had just happened, and his freckled cheeks gained a small dusting of scarlet while he placed one hand delicately on his lips, hoping to numb the tingling. "Y-you…kissed me?" Matt asked, hoping for his blond friend to reconfirm what he pretty much already knew; he stood up and turned around to face Mello, blushing and stuttering and just all around looking mighty adorable and highly molestable. "You actually _kissed _me…_me…_"

Mello took a chocolate bar out of his backpack and took a bite out of it, not even bothering to swallow before responding. "Yeah, I did. So what?" he countered, taking another bite of his chocolate and raising an eyebrow at the stammering redhead.

"N-nothing, it's just that—I wanted to know—um, if…" he gasped, beginning to hyperventilate out of pure fear before regaining his composure and taking a deep, held breath. "I was wondering if you could do it again!" he blurted out, slapping a hand over his mouth after processing what he had just said. _Oh fuck, I'm in for it now, _he thought as Mello's eyes widened and his chocolate bar slipped out of his hand. "L-l-look, i-if you don't want to, i-it's fine by me, I'll be—mmpf."

The blond effectively cut him off with his lips, an interruption Matt was all too happy to welcome and embrace, pressing back almost immediately and letting Mello have his way with his mouth. He let Mello control everything; he let him pull him closer, let him tangle his hands into auburn hair, let that devilishly divine tongue worm its way into his mouth as he hesitantly raised his arms and wrapped them around his friend's neck, pulling himself even closer. No contact was spared, for the tiniest bit of space could separate them during the long-awaited moment they were both fully indulged in.

"Thank you," Matt whispered as they broke apart, still close enough for his breath to ghost over Mello's lips.

Mello looked confused. "For what?"

"For giving me such a kickass first kiss."


	2. Friends vs best friends

**FRIENDS:** will let you borrow their umbrella.

**BEST FRIENDS:** will take your umbrella and ditch you screaming, "RUN BITCH, RUN!"

"Thanks, I appreciate it, Linda," Matt said as he took the extra umbrella from the young girl. She just smiled and said 'you're welcome' before walking off towards the Wammy House to get out of the rain. The redhead's lips twitched upwards the tiniest amount as he walked through the courtyard, his newly obtained umbrella keeping him dry.

Mello came running up to his best friend and snatched the umbrella, sprinting off yelling, "Run bitch, run!"

Matt chased after the blond, rain dripping off his hair and into his eyes as he hauled ass. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, Mello!"

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** never ask you for food.

**BEST FRIENDS:** are the reason you have no food.

Linda's longing gaze at Matt's cookies didn't go unnoticed by the redheaded game master; rather, he was waiting for the artist to ask for one. It seemed like she didn't want to, though, so Matt just let it slide and continued eating his lunch.

Mello slid into the seat next to Matt, not even bothering himself with eyeing the cookies before reaching over the redhead's arm to grab them. "You gonna eat those? No? 'Kay thanks." The striped boy just glared daggers at the blond, hands clenched into fists. "What?"

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** bail you out of jail.

**BEST FRIENDS:** are sitting next to you in the cell saying, "Damn, we fucked up, but that shit was fun!"

"Oh God, my life is over," Matt groaned, banging his head against the inside wall of the jail cell he and Mello were currently locked in. What if he never got out? What if he was locked up forever? What if he never got the chance to finish _Final Fantasy XIII_? Next to him, Mello just chuckled and leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands.

"Damn, we fucked up," he started, glancing over at Matt and laughing again, "but that shit was fun! Fuck, I never ran so fast in my life, Mattie!"

One of the officers came waltzing up with a teenage girl following closely behind. "You got lucky, boys; this young lady right here just posted your bail."

Matt was so happy he could've kissed her. "Thanks, Linda."

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** will take away your drink when they think you've had too much.

**BEST FRIENDS:** will sit your ass back on that barstool and say, "Bitch, finish that; you know we don't waste."

"Matt, you're drunk," Linda told the inebriated redhead currently swaying back and forth on his barstool.

"No I'm not," he slurred, further proving her point. She pushed his drink away from his hand and hugged him before leaving for a well-deserved good night's sleep. Matt got up to follow her, but was dragged back down onto his seat by Mello.

The blond pushed the drink back towards him, leaning one arm on the counter and eating a chocolate bar with the other. "Bitch, finish that," he commanded, pointing at the half-gone drink, "you know we don't waste."

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** will knock on your door.

**BEST FRIENDS:** will burst right in announcing, "I'M HOME!"

A knocking at the door made Matt pause his game and get up to answer it. To his surprise, Linda was standing there with her hands clasped behind her back and smiling. "Uh, hi, Linda. You never visit; what's up?"

"I was just going around asking people if they had any free time to spare," she answered, walking into the room when the redhead allowed her access. "It's pretty boring around here, what with school starting soon, and everyone's kinda freaking about it." She glanced over at the television. "Ooooh! _Kingdom Hearts II_! Can I play?"

"Sure," he replied quietly, closing the door and sitting down next to the girl. As if on cue, Mello came bursting through the door with his arms full of chocolate bars.

"MAAAAAAAAAATTIE~! I'M HOME!"

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** borrow your stuff for a few days and then give it back.

**BEST FRIENDS:** keep your shit for so long they forget it's yours.

Linda held the calculator out to the redhead, smiling brightly as he took it. "Thanks for letting me borrow your graphing calculator, Matt. I made sure that it had fresh batteries and I also cleared the memory for you, too."

"Cool," he said, chucking it onto his bed and watching the artist walk down the hallway. He turned to his roommate with an expectant gaze. "Well?"

Mello paused in his violation of the chocolate bar he was eating and stared at Matt. "What?"

"Aren't you going to return my DS?"

The blond looked thoroughly confused. "Dunno what you're talkin' 'bout, Mattie. I don't have 'your' supposed DS. If you'd like, though, you can borrow mine."

Matt smacked his forehead.

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** will talk shit to the person that talked shit about you.

**BEST FRIENDS:** will knock them the fuck out.

"You didn't have to do that, y'know," Matt mumbled, casting a glance at the flushed girl walking beside him. "I could've handled him on my own."

"True," Linda agreed, "but what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't stand up for you? It's what friends do, Matt. Besides, it feels good to let it all out sometimes."

"Hn, thanks, I guess," he muttered, walking into his room and lying down on his bed. A few minutes later, Mello came strutting into the room with a cocky smirk slapped onto his face.

"Hey, Mattie," he called, shaking him to make sure he was awake.

"What?"

"Y'know that kid who was talking shit about you earlier?"

"Uh, yeah. What about him?"

"…let's just say he won't be saying _anything_ for a while."

Matt's eyes widened incredulously. "Mello, what the _fuck _did you _do_?"

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** are for a while.

**BEST FRIENDS:** are for forever.

_Hmm, it's been four years since I left Wammy's, and Linda still hasn't called me yet, _Matt thought, looking through his phone to see if there were any messages he might've missed. _Maybe she doesn't have my number…no, I remember giving it to her. Maybe she lost it…no, I saw her put it into her phone. Eh, she'll call eventually; we're friends, I think I can count on her._

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, and he sighed after reading the Caller ID. "What the hell, Mels. This is the fifteenth time so far today you've called me and it's only ten in the morning. What the fuck could you possibly need _this _time?"

_"Is it such a crime to call and just say hi, Mattie?"_

"Forty-five times a day, yes."

_"Aww, you make it sound like you don't like me anymore."_

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it. You have been, are, and always will be, my best friend."

_"Prove it then, bitch."_ He could just _hear_ Mello smirking deviously.

"Do you honestly think I'd answer the phone forty-five times a day for just anyone?" he shot back.

_"…touché, Mattie, touché."_

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Hope you enjoyed this little set of drabbles. I certainly did!


	3. Smashed

Oh god dammit, it had been a long ass fucking day, and I was looking forward to nothing more than getting back to the apartment I shared with my best friend, taking a shower to rid myself of the nasty ass smell of blood and death, and maybe suck down a few chocolate bars before calling it a night and hitting the sack. I expected to open the door and find the lazy fuck I call my roommate sitting on the couch, playing the game of the week and smelling like a goddamn ashtray, because no matter how many times I fucking told him, he refused to smoke outside; what I found instead was a nineteen-year old man rolling around and giggling like a pre-pubescent girl that just got her first boyfriend.

"What the fuck, Matt?" I demanded, tossing my jacket onto the couch and walking over to him so I could kick him in the side. "What the hell is so funny?"

"Dunno," he coughed out, curling up and continuing his giggle fit. "I jus' felt like laughin', tha's all…" Oh shit, don't tell me it's what I thought it was. I looked over at the table on the side of couch and groaned as my suspicions were confirmed; just as I'd thought, the idiot had gone and gotten completely fucking _smashed_, and from the looks of it downed the _entire_ bottle of sake. Fuck, he'd never had alcohol before, so if a little could get him tipsy the entire fucking bottle would give him a hangover the size of Asia. Damn, he'd be a bitch to deal with in the morning.

Smoothly, I pushed him flat on his back and sat down on his hips, holding his arms above his head using one of my hands while the other pushed on his chest. Leaning in close, I said slowly, "Listen to me. You. Are. Drunk. Off. Your. Fucking. Ass. Right. Now. I'm going to hold you here until you calm the fuck down, so don't try anything stu—" I was cut off by Matt pressing his mouth to mine, the residual taste of alcohol and the sheer surprise causing me to stiffen instantly; I pulled back, staring wide-eyed at him while he just looked like a deer in the headlights. "What the hell was that?"

"A kiss." NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

"I'm aware of that, Mattie. I meant what the fuck was it for?"

"I jus' wan' ta kiss you…" he trailed off, staring at my lips while I turned them down into a scowl. "Dunno why, but I always wan' ta jus' kiss you, cause yer sooooooo pretty 'n all…" Oh sweet Jesus Christ, my best friend was gay without even knowing it, and all it took for him to say it was to get him drunk. Well, fuck. What was I s'posed to do now? My fuckhead of a best friend was irrefutably in lust with me, drunk off his ass, and not thinking straight.

So what did I do? I stuck my tongue down his throat.

Needless to say, he seemed pretty shocked at my actions, but not long after he warmed up and started to kiss back. I released his hands and worked my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer and fully dominating his mouth with my own, though it didn't seem like he was putting up much of a fight. Damn, even though he was inebriated, he was a fucking _amazing_ kisser; honestly, why hadn't I done this earlier?

He moaned, a small sound from the back of his throat, and I mentally smirked. Here was Matt, hacker extraordinaire and hard ass, mister unbreakable himself, and I had him moaning, whimpering, groaning, gasping, and_ vulnerable._ He tried to pull away, but my hands in his hair just kept him in place, forcing him to breathe through his nose as I sucked determinedly on his bottom lip; I hadn't noticed his traveling hand until it landed on my crotch. Grunting, I broke the kiss and looked down at the sweaty redhead underneath me: his hair was totally fucked up, his face was red, and he had a lazy, drunken smile plastered on his face.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck this," I swore, standing up and tossing Matt over my shoulder as I walked to his bedroom. I threw him down onto the bed and crushed my mouth to his, hands traveling up underneath his shirt and over the searing skin I found there. My mind was fighting an inner battle while I continued ravishing the gamer.

_This isn't right. This is wrong. This is another boy. This is Matt._

**So?**

_No good can come of this._

**Fuck you, conscience, fuck you.**

I let my hands travel lower, past his stomach and down to the waistband of his jeans as I pulled back for a breath, taking in Matt's pleading face, begging me to keep going because it felt oh so damn good; I happily complied, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans before slowly, ever so slowly, sliding them off.

It was gonna be a good night for Mello.

* * *

"Son of a fucking bitch!" I yelled, rubbing my temples as my eyes adjusted to the inhuman amount of lighting in the room. Fuck, did my head hurt like hell. There's headaches, migraines, and then what I had, which was pretty much the equivalent of 1000 rabid monkeys with two-ton mallets banging on the inside of your skull. I looked down and stared blankly at what lay beneath the sheets. "Why am I naked?"

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," my roommate greeted me as he walked into the room wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants that left little to none to the imagination. I squinted at him, and he took a bite of the chocolate bar in his hand. "What?"

I blinked a few times, cocking my head to the side. "What the fuck happened last night that I can't remember a thing?" I asked, grabbing my goggles and a cigarette off the nightstand.

"I came home from work and found you rolling all around the floor and laughing your pathetic ass off. Found out it was because you'd pulled a bonehead move and downed an entire fucking bottle of sake, you dumbass. I then tried to subdue you by sitting on you and pinning your arms, but then you kissed me and told me that you were interested in me." Woah, shit, is my face on fire or something? "After that I kissed you back, you kissed me back from there, that turned into making out, then you got frisky and grabbed my crotch." HUH? "So, after that little escapade I threw you over my shoulder and tossed your ass onto your bed. Then we had sex."

"Work—floor—sake—kissed?—crotch—sex—WHAT?" I oh-so-intelligently sputtered as my face grew hotter and hotter with every passing moment. "You found me on the floor, made out with me, and then had _sex_ with me? I can't believe you took advantage of me like that!"

"You can't rape the willing."

"I WAS _DRUNK_, NOT _WILLING_!"

"And people tend to speak the truth when smashed. If your constant whines of 'M-Mello, d-d-don't stop, I've wanted this for so long' were any indication, you were completely willing." I opened and closed my mouth like a gasping fish. "Exactly. Don't ever get drunk again, shithead."

I grabbed a pillow and angrily chucked it at his head. "I don't plan on it! Next time we have sex, I wanna remember it!"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **HAHAHAHAHAHA I don't even know what the fuck this was. :D


	4. Mellodramatic

**Warning: **Alright, so I don't usually put a warning, since the summary usually has all the warnings needed, but I thought I'd just let you know that this chapter is rated a very high T due to Mello's gross overuse of the word 'fuck.' :D

* * *

"AUGH! I CAN FEEL _CHANGES _HAPPENING!" Mello screamed, pulling at his girlish blond hair in distress (don't EVER tell him he has chick hair, unless getting a bullet in the crotch is one of your lifetime dreams).

"Uh-huh, sure," I deadpanned, not even bothering to look up from my game. "X-x-x-y-x-y-x-a-a-a-b-b-right trigger-left trigger-x-y-right bumper-a-a-x-y."

"IT FUCKING BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNS!"

"Little bit melodramatic, there, don'tcha think? It's probably just puberty." A sudden poof-like sound behind me drew my attention away from my game, and standing in the clearing cloud was Mello, but he looked a little different; his eyelashes were longer, his eyes and face were softer, and—HOLY GODDAMN FUCKING SHIT, ARE THOSE BOOBS? I dropped the controller, pushed my goggles up onto my forehead, and sat there staring open-mouthed for what felt like forever. "What the hell, Mels?"

"I don't fucking know, Matt," _she _replied, poking a boob with _her _finger. "I just don't fucking know."

Childishly, I scoffed at _her _and went back to my game, my face on fire. "I'm not talking to you 'til you turn back into a boy," I muttered, mashing the buttons harder. "You're not cute anymore." _She _looked absolutely fucking **scandalized**.

"M-M-Matt!" _she _whined, _her _voice's high pitch causing my ears to ring. "C'mon, Matt! Matt! Matt? Matt? _Matt…_

FOR _FUCK'S_ SAKE, MATT, FUCKING PAY ATTENTION WHEN I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU, YOU FUCKING _USELESS_ PIECE OF **SHIT**!" My face hit the desk, hard, after Mello pushed the arm holding my chin out from under me. "Do you know how fucking _irritating_ that is? To have somebody fucking _ignore _you while you're fucking _talking_, because what the fuck, it might be fucking _important_? I might've been telling you I'll fucking _die_ tomorrow, and you would've fucking _missed_ that goddamn fucking _important_ detail, fuckface! God, you piss me the fuck off and do the fucking _stupidest_ shit and…and…_fuck_!" He stopped ranting for a second or two to catch his breath, but I knew that the pause meant it was in no way over. "Honestly! I don't even fucking know why I hang out with you! Almost everything you do fucking pisses me the hell off, and the fact that you can't even fucking listen to me when I'm fucking talking isn't doing _shit _about it! You're fucking lazy as shit, you eat like a fucking pig, you—GODDAMMIT, MATT, YOU'RE NOT FUCKING PAYING ATTENTION AGAIN!"

"Mmmph, mmph mm mmphng mmp mmpht mmphmph mph MMPH mmph mm mmphmph," I mumbled incoherently, the desk pressed against my mouth muffling my words. "Sorry, I was trying to get over the SHOCK of my daymare," I translated after I lifted my head up.

"And what the fuck is that?"

"It's like a nightmare," pause for dramatic effect, "_but during the day._" And what a horrible daymare it was; which reminded me. "Mels, I need to check something real quick."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Make it snappy." I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me, sneaking a peek down the sweatpants and sighing in relief at the sight of what lay beneath the fabric.

"Oh, thank God."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **LOL.


	5. Truth lies deep within

Confused? Read the Author's Note at the end.

* * *

Mello was exactly everything he wanted to be, everything that he made himself out to be. He'd finally left that goddamn orphanage of freaks, and better yet his best friend had decided to tag along for the ride. The blond Mafioso was a hard assed, gun-toting bastard with amazing leadership qualities and determination to boot; if he wanted something done, he'd even go so far as doing it himself, and it was this determination that cost him the left half of his face and left a permanent scar where there had once been smooth, unmarred skin.

All Mello wanted was to finally beat Near, the bane of his meager existence.

Mihael Keehl was a pacifist, frowning upon all things violent while clutching his rosary tighter. A devout Catholic, he prayed daily, even multiple times on some occasions; however religious he may have been, it didn't stop him from loving who he chose, and this person was his best friend. He hated having to take responsibility for a group, much rather letting others be the leader and leaving him to do whatever he pleased. The scar across his face reminded him every morning how ugly he truly was, mocking him to the point of free-falling tears, for no one could ever love someone as monstrous as himself.

All Mihael had ever wanted was to be loved for who he was by someone who truly, deeply loved him.

Matt was a cocky, arrogant asshole with no motivation outside the realm of getting up every morning just to play whatever game he'd picked up the week earlier. If he wasn't playing his videogames, he was out doing shit for Mello, but no matter where he might be he was never without a lit cigarette held lightly between his lips and his orange-tinted goggles over his eyes; nobody could read his emotions with the goggles on, something Matt very much preferred.

All Matt wanted was for people to leave him the fuck alone and let him live his life the way he chose.

Mail Jeevas had a warm and caring heart, and enjoyed doing productive things with his life instead of wasting it away. He smiled often, emerald eyes twinkling with youth, and for a moment he looked like the kid he really was, not like the adult everyone expected him to be. Smoking and smokers disgusted him and he hated covering his eyes, because after all, eyes are the windows to the soul; everybody always knew what he was thinking, and he loved it.

All Mail wanted was to see Mihael smile again, just like he used to.

"Mello?" Matt stuck his head out the door, spotting the blond and walking out to sit next to him as he finished his cigarette and flicked the butt somewhere. "Didn't expect to find you out here," he said, glancing over at his friend and shrugging his striped shoulders, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead.

"I could say 'same to you,' but then I'd be lying," Mello responded, fingering the beads on his rosary and sighing deeply. "I just…needed some fresh air. It gets damn cramped in that tiny fucking room, y'know." A small silence later, the redhead piped up again.

"Mihael, what's wrong?"

"There's n-nothing wrong," the blond answered, body shaking with sobs as Mail pulled him into a hug, burying his face into the top of Mihael's head. Mail knew he was lying through his teeth, but he didn't press him for the truth; rather, he pulled away and cupped his cheek with a leather gloved hand, rubbing his thumb sensually over the scar. "How can you do that, Mail?"

"Do what?" Mail asked, brushing a few blond strands out of Mihael's eyes and tucking them behind his ear.

"Look at me like…that," he whispered, averting his eyes away from the redhead and regretfully yanking his face out of his grasp. "You look at me with so much _love _and _compassion_, and I don't understand…how can you stand the sight of me? This scar," he turned away more, trying to hide the burn, "makes me look like a monster. I'm not like you, Mail; I'm not beautiful, I'm not useful, I'm not even worthy of calling myself your friend! I left you, Mail! I left you for selfish reasons, and when you found me, I was selfish and kept you to myself! You should be out there, living happily, not miserable with me here!"

The redhead grabbed his chin and turned Mihael's face toward his, gently placing his mouth on the blond's, slowly letting his eyes close as he moved the hand on Mihael's chin to the back of his head, tangling lightly in the soft hair it found there. Shutting his eyes tightly, Mihael pressed back, tears sliding down his face as he desperately grabbed at Mail's hair, pulling him forward and closer, afraid of the thought of him pulling away. "I love you," Mail murmured after the kiss broke, still close enough to feel the elder's breath on his lips. "I don't understand how anyone could not look at you like that; you're beautiful, you're smart, and you're absolutely perfect. The only one that thinks differently is you, Mihael, because I certainly don't hate you and I never did, not even when you left Wammy's. Now, please stop crying, for me."

The blond drew a few shaky breaths, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands after Mail let him go; he stared back at him with shining ice-blue eyes, holding the cross on his rosary to his lips and breathing out a barely heard, "Don't leave me," to which the redhead replied, "Never." Mihael leaned forward, connecting his mouth with Mail's once again, and proceeded to kiss the redhead passionately, running his gloved fingers through silky auburn tresses and sighing as the kiss deepened; it brought a dusting of scarlet to his cheeks when Mail slipped his tongue into his mouth and he moaned, pulling himself closer to the other. As they parted, both resumed their original positions and a comfortable silence fell upon them, neither wanting nor needing to break it.

"Fuck," Mello swore, standing up and brushing dirt off his pants, "I need chocolate. Like, now. I'm going inside to check the feeds before I go to bed. You're on overnight duty." Matt simply nodded and the blond left him outside by himself, goggles back on and an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

Matt hated it.

He hated Matt. He hated Mello. He hated all the shit that Matt and Mello had to put up with. Hate, hate, hate hate hate. It all sucked, because all he wanted to do was go in there, pin the chocoholic to something, and kiss him until they were blue in the face but no, he can't do that because he's Matt, and Matt is Mello's best friend, and Matt doesn't think of Mello that way, no, that would be wrong, because Matt and Mello are just best friends, nothing more.

He wanted to be Mail Jeevas.

Mail Jeevas could be whoever the fuck he wanted to be, and Mail Jeevas didn't have to be something he wasn't, he could openly love Mihael Keehl, because he was Mail Jeevas and not Matt, because it's okay if Mail Jeevas and Mihael Keehl are more than just best friends, because nobody's trying to kill Mail Jeevas and Mihael Keehl.

No, they're trying to kill Matt and Mello, which means that Matt and Mello have to be best friends, and Matt and Mello can't love each other like Mail Jeevas and Mihael Keehl can.

Because Matt and Mello are just best friends.

Matt hated it.

He wanted to be Mail Jeevas.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Okay, I'm pretty sure most of you are still trying to get over the serious whatthefuckery in this, so I'll explain: no, they are not schizophrenic, nor are they crazy. Mihael Keehl and Mello are the same person, as are Mail Jeevas and Matt, but they can't be themselves, because Kira's out to kill them, and they have to be strong, which means setting aside intimate relationships for the sake of catching the sick bastard.


	6. Girls, broccoli, and Matt

Mello had a definite love-hate relationship with God.

Truly, he loved the Lord with all his heart, mind, body and soul, but the guy did the damn strangest things sometimes, the majority of which left the twelve-year-old blond to wonder why the fuck these strange things even existed.

Things like…teenage girls, broccoli, and Matt.

If there ever was anyone to admit that they didn't understand the pubescent female mind, it was Mello; he wasn't ashamed to voice his opinions, no matter how much he got laughed at. Girls were weird, to say the least. All they did was jabber on and on and on and on about boys, makeup, clothes, shoes, hair, and other mind-numbingly horrendous girly things. What scared him the most was that they seemed to stalk him, and all they wanted to do was kiss him, but no, he wouldn't be having _any _of that and chose instead to constantly high-tail it out of there and hide behind his roommate in their shared dorm.

Mello didn't get broccoli. At all. A genius he may be, but really, broccoli? What purpose did it actually serve in the world other than giving parents and/or orphanage cooks an excuse to shove nasty-ass vegetables down their kids' throats? Much dreaded were the nights of broccoli for dinner at the Wammy House, and no matter what day of the week it was or what else was on the menu, mealtime always ran along the same routes: Mello would get his dinner, scowl at his broccoli, savagely tear into whatever meat was on his plate, scowl at his broccoli, attack whatever type of rice or pasta was sitting there, scowl at his broccoli, then proceed to throw said scowled-at broccoli at whatever chump was stupid enough to sit within the blond's throwing range and thereby instigating a food fight that would carry on until Roger bolted in and promptly got creamed in the face with something gooey and hard to wash out of hair.

This usually landed him in Roger's office, the predictably unhappy geezer glaring daggers at him while the chocoholic picked meat scraps out of his teeth, totally unaffected.

It wasn't until he turned fifteen that Mello started noticing Matt (his best friend Matt, his male best friend Matt, _that _Matt) a little differently. He supposed it really made itself prominent when he came waltzing into their room one afternoon to find the aforementioned redhead lying half off the bed and playing videogames upside down, his striped shirt hiking up and revealing a very tempting, very taut, very touchable expanse of stomach, making Mello's fingers twitch with the thought of just laying a hand on that godlike skin.

The barely noticeable blush on his usually pale cheeks rose drastically as he stared at the gamer's dexterous fingers, moving rapidly and accurately over the buttons on the controller; the blond wondered what it would be like to have those nimble fingers traveling over something different, causing _something else _on Mello to twitch, leading the blond to hastily apologize as he ran in front of the screen in a mad dash to the blissful environment of the Matt-less bathroom.

A few weeks passed and Mello's determination to ignore the _sexysexysexy _redhead was beginning to falter and fade away like dust in the wind. When Matt spoke, he no longer focused on his goggled eyes, choosing to stare at his _kissablekissablekissable _lips instead before a hand waved in his face snapped him back to reality and back to a confused-looking teenager with one eyebrow raised at his friend's strange behavior. The blond almost had to slap himself a few times after catching himself blatantly checking out Matt's _hothothot _ass when he wasn't looking.

Then came _the day_. The day when it all came together, the day when it all began to make sense, the day when Mello said fuck this shit, I'm taking some goddamn action, bitch.

And action he did take.

He burst into his room, spotting Matt sitting on the edge of his bed and fully entranced in his DS. Stalking up to the younger boy, Mello snatched the handheld out of his grasp and tossed it carelessly to the side, plopping down into the redhead's lap and, before Matt could utter a word, crushing his mouth to the gamer's.

Mello expected to be pushed off. Mello expected to be punched. Mello expected Matt to hate him and/or request a new roommate.

What Mello didn't expect was the other boy to respond immediately.

Matt pressed back not even a second after the blond kissed him (was he waiting for him? Did he want it just as much?), shifting slightly to redistribute Mello's weight across his thighs, grabbing onto his hips and pulling the _definitelynotresisting_ genius closer, adding more pressure to the kiss. Mello wrapped his legs around the other's waist, tangling his shaking fingers into soft, silken auburn hair and growing bolder, running his tongue along Matt's bottom lip; he internally cheered as the redhead obliged to his demands, obediently opening his mouth and letting the blond's chocolate-laced appendage snake its way into the previously unexplored territory. They breathed through their noses, unwilling to end the moment for something as trivial as catching their breath, not moving apart until they were done ravishing each other, for the time being.

As they reinstated contact, Mello added a few more things to his mental to-do list:

_~Beat Near_

_~Succeed L_

_~Thank the Lord for creating a creature as perfect and perfectly sexy as Matt_

_~Matt_

**

* * *

Author's Note: **These two are my anti-drug. *cuddles Matt and Mello plushies*


	7. Romello and Julimatt

"I can't believe that…that…_sheep _told me to get over it and move on with my life! What the hell does he know? He's never been in love!" Mihael seethed, climbing the fence in front of him and entering the backyard of the Jeevas house. "Hey, wait; is that a light on upstairs?" He moved closer to the house, looking up just in time to see an irate redhead step out onto the balcony. "It's Mail! Oh, fuck, he's so hot. I wish I was his DS, so he could touch me all day whenever he wanted."

"God_dammit_!" Mail swore, bringing his fists down on the railing of the balcony, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Fuck, Mihael, where are you? I don't care if you're a Keehl, just forget that tiny detail and come to me, come to me and love me like I know you do, you selfish bastard. Just do that and I'll swear off being a Jeevas, for you."

_Wow, I feel like a creeper just standing here, but meh, what the hell, I'll listen a while longer, _Mihael thought to himself, waiting for the gamer to speak again.

"Ugh, the only reason my parents went apeshit on your ass is because you're a Keehl," the redhead mused, looking out at the moon. "Any other boy they'd be fine with but no, because I fell in love with someone we've been fighting with for so goddamn long we don't even remember why the fuck we were fighting in the first place, I can't be happy. Fuckers. Ditch your name, love, and I'll give you all I have of me."

A sudden voice behind Mail startled him and he spun around at a breakneck speed. "Deal, babe."

"Who the fuck is there? I'm warning you, I'm armed! Don't make me use Omnislash on you!" Mihael just laughed and enveloped the younger boy in a hug, holding him still despite his constant squirming.

"You're so geeky, Mail," he teased, feeling the other relax in his grip after realizing who it was. "But I still love you, and if a name change is in order, so be it. Call me what you wish, and if being Mihael makes you unable to fully love me, then I won't be Mihael anymore. I'll be whoever you want me to be, just say the word."

Mail snuggled closer to the blond, sighing into his chest. "How did you get in, my sweet? Did you climb the fence again?" Mihael nodded, causing the redhead to chuckle lightly. "Dude, my parents are gonna fucking _kill_ you if they find you here. And, perhaps our little name game makes it difficult to be together; a solution, then. I'll call you Mello, and I'll be Matt."

"I think we can make that work," Mello mumbled as he pressed closer to the gamer, kissing him lightly and smiling into it as he felt Matt pressing back with just as much passion. "Don't worry," he reassured him after the kiss broke, "I promise that I'll take you away from this hellhole as soon as possible. We can run away together, get married, and live happily."

Matt smiled cheekily at him, more of a smirk than anything, saying, "I look forward to it. Unfortunately, I can hear the housekeeper bitching at me to come inside, so we'll have to part ways for tonight. I'll count the minutes until we meet again, Mello." He leaned in, placing one last kiss on the blond's lips before heading back inside, but not before glancing back and giving Mello a suggestive wink.

The blond laughed quietly as he climbed down the side of the house, landing on the grass with cat-like grace. Sparing one last look before leaving, he smiled and walked home, heart feeling lighter and anxious to meet with the beautiful boy once again.

Back at home, however, it wasn't as peaceful or welcoming.

"Where the **fuck **have you been, boy?" Mello's father screamed at him, shaking a fist at the uncaring blond boy with better things on his mind than telling his family about his late-night spelunking adventures with the pretty redhead he met at prom.

"None of your fucking business, old man!"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **This is the result of fangirling plus reading too much Shakespeare.

I am ashamed…at how stupid this was. 8D


	8. Naughty endeavors

_A month, _Matt thought as coherently as he could, what with his throat currently occupied by Mello's tongue, _an entire fucking month since we've gotten together and we haven't fucked up and let people in on our dirty little secret. _The redhead tried and failed to repress a shudder, wrapping his striped arms around the dominating blond's neck and pulling him closer, pressing back with just as much enthusiasm as Mello licked at the roof of his mouth; suddenly, everything tasted gloriously of chocolate and the breathtaking sweetness that was Mello. _It's sorta invigorating, hiding from everyone and stealing away into broom closets and deserted classrooms to have some time to ourselves. Life feels like an espionage mission now; I _actually_ hacked the security cameras to run on a loop so the guards couldn't see us hastily entering the janitor's closet we're in right now. Ohhhhhhh, _Mello_~! That's the spot!_

Smirking behind the kiss, the black-clad teenager ran his hand down the gamer's back, sliding it slowly back up before repeating the process continuously; down then up, down then up, down then up, _moan_. Matt responded by fisting his hands tightly into blond strands, pulling and releasing, grabbing and pulling and releasing, over and over and over until certain that the other knew he had his express-given permission to do whatever the fuck he wanted. Grabbing the younger boy's denim-covered hips, he pulled the redhead flush against his body, hips to hips, torso to torso, not sparing any bit of contact during their moment of raw and unadulterated passion.

Being the geniuses they both were, they were very much aware of the consequences (physical, social, and disciplinary) that would most likely ensue were they to be caught/found out/ratted out. Socially, they'd be no doubt completely ruined; if, by some small chance, they weren't, it'd be damn awkward to sit and talk with friends you'd have for years that just recently found out you were a flaming homosexual. Physically, Roger would undoubtedly separate them and give them new rooms, the old coot. Disciplinary…well, it probably wouldn't be pretty; not only would they be punished, but the entire fucking house would find out about it and gossip would spread like a wildfire through Colorado during the middle of summer, which, for those of you who don't know, is pretty fucking **fast**. Not to mention Linda would have a fucking _field day_ with you and more often than not stalk you and constantly bother you about drawing you and blah, blah, blah.

Damn that girl and her strange, sick obsession with drawing the male gender.

Not that any of this really mattered to Matt, however, because it's pretty fucking hard to think straight while you're busy playing a rousing (read: an arousing) game of tonsil hockey with your roommate/best friend/boyfriend who _happens_ to have been gifted with the tongue of the fucking _gods_, the lucky bastard. Although, in hindsight, the real lucky one would be the receiver of said divine tongue, wouldn't it?

To be honest, Matt didn't give two shits about it as he moaned deep in his throat, blushing madly and clutching for dear life onto the back of Mello's shirt as the blond lifted him up to wrap slender legs around his waist, holding him right underneath his finely-sculpted ass. Oh, how he love, love, _loved_ that ass. The gamer tightened his legs around Mello's waist and his arms around his neck, tilting his head to the side to give the chocoholic even _more _access to his happily obliging mouth, sucking submissively on his tongue. Moving away from his mouth, Mello focused his attention on his redhead's proffered neck, biting and licking and sucking and kissing and making the third of L's successors' train of thought derail and fall off a goddamn cliff, causing him to quickly recess to having the ability to do nothing more than breathe and _moan_ the blond's name. "M-M-Mello! Ngh…ah…uh…M-_Mello_~!" Matt gasped, arching into the touch as Mello snaked a hand underneath his sweaty, sticky shirt to slide across sweaty, sticky, fiery hot skin, burning with the heat of lust, passion, and just a _pinch_ of pubescent hormones.

"Mmm…Matt…" Mello purred, nipping harshly at Matt's neck and eliciting a lustful groan from the younger teenager that told him, wordlessly, that the other _accepted _and _enjoyed _and _demanded _what he was doing. As Matt tangled his fingers into sweat-dampened golden locks, Mello sucked on his collarbone, thanking God and Buddha and Zeus and whatever other gods he could think of for low-collared shirts.

Although Mattie was a good little uke, he had needs, and pulled Mello's mouth away from his body and back to his kiss-swollen, and most likely bruised, mouth, opening without hesitation when the blond requested it. Shivering as Mello's tongue traveled along the inside of his teeth, Matt couldn't help but give a mental smirk and 'fuck you' to everyone who'd ever chased after the godlike blond ravishing his all-too-willing-to-submit mouth, because fuck them all, Mello was his. Nobody knew how possessive Matt was of things that were his; Mello was his, and he was Mello's, and he wasn't at all keen on sharing him with anyone.

Matt's body went rigid for a split second before melting back into Mello's as the older boy sneakily slid his hands down the redhead's back and underneath the waistband of both his jeans and his boxers, giving the soft skin he found there a quick squeeze before retracting and traveling back up under his shirt; Mello swallowed a playful growl from the gamer and hooked his thumbs into the waist of Matt's pants, pulling him even closer, the body heat they'd created now shared between them as the blond pulled back his tongue to suck on his best friend's bottom lip, earning himself a shaky, breathy moan before breaking the kiss completely.

"We should…probably go," he panted, pressing one last loving, chaste kiss on Matt's lips. "Mmm, I need to take a shower; just look how sweaty you got me, Mattie." The redhead unlatched his arms and legs from his friend, glazed-over emerald eyes unfocused and distant. "C'mon, I wanna be nice and clean for dinner," he added, grabbing Matt's hand and opening the closet door, starting down the hall toward their shared room.

Once back in their room, Mello closed the door and began stripping, pausing to find his roommate staring at him with flushed cheeks and mussed hair. "Um, M-Mello?" Matt stammered, looking down at the floor and kicking a bit of dust with his toe. "…canItakeashowerwithyou?"

The blond chocolate addict grinned, picking the other up bridal-style and carrying him into the bathroom. "Of course you can, you naughty tease."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Here you go, my lovelies! Some almost-porn, just for you! *dies of nosebleed she's been holding back since opening up the blank Word document*


	9. Who'd've thunk?

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" I set down my copy of _Gardening & Guns _in favor of opening the window and finding out who the fuck it was bothering me at three in the afternoon. Lo and behold (Mary, mother of God, Shakespearean language), I was granted the sight of my personal favorite redhead down on one knee out in my backyard. Laughing, I tossed him the rope underneath my bed and waited for him to climb up. "Fear not, dearest Pemellope, for Mattdysseus has returned!" he proclaimed, scooping me up into a hug the second his combat boots hit the plush carpeting of my room.

I returned the hug, squeezing him tightly around his waist. "Glad to see you too, Mattie," I grinned, letting him go and falling back onto my bed as he fell next to me. "What bringest thou over here this fine summer's afternoon?"

"Mmm, I just wanted to see you," he started, laying his head on my chest as I ran my fingers through the rat's nest he called his hair, "'cause I don't get to hang out with you too often. We haven't gone on a date in like, forever! But we're going tonight; I'm gonna take you to the drive-in that's just a few miles east of here." He grinned up at me, planting a kiss on the underside of my jaw and another and another and another, trailing up to my ear.

"Matt," I warned him quietly, not that it deterred him from placing feather-light kisses on my chin and neck. "Matt…seriously, Mattie, stop. Misa's home!" That stopped him in his tracks.

"Damn," he swore under his breath, looking at me apologetically before pressing his lips to mine in a quick, fleeting kiss. "Really, Mels? You're seventeen; can't your parents trust you to stay at home without having your sister watch you? Besides, she's the same age. What makes her so different?"

"Well," I drawled, sitting up and finding myself being pulled into Matt's lap, "Misa-Misa doesn't get in fights at school, swear like a sailor, dress like a prostitute, or have any homosexual tendencies whatsoever. Ergo, Misa's more trustworthy than poor, sweet Mihael."

"That's a load of total bullshit," he responded, grabbing me into a tight hug that made me melt. "You and I both know that those assholes deserve what they get. I think the way you swear at everyone and their brother is adorable beyond belief. No one else but you could get away with it." I blushed. "Prostitute? That's not the vibe I got; more like, Mafia. If you _were_ a prostitute, you'd be one of those high end hookers for like, Congressmen. Lastly, you can't have homosexual _tendencies _if you're actually _gay_."

I pulled back, cupping his face with my hand and smirking. "I love you."

"Who wouldn't?" he countered, leaning in and taking my lips hostage. I pressed back instantly, tangling my fingers into his hair and letting everything else fall to pieces. Having Matt around always made me feel like standing on top of a mountain and screaming, 'HELLO WORLD, I LOVE THIS KID!'

"Mello~! Misa-Misa has to go to the store and she's not allowed to leave you home alone, so get your shoes on before she goes in there and does it herself!" my sister announced, turning the door handle to my room. "Mello, did you hear—"

By the time I realized what had happened and pried myself away from Matt, Misa was frozen in shock in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob. Scrambling, I tried to make distance between Matt and myself, flushing considerably. "It's not what it looks like!" I denied, waving my hands comically as a small blush overtook Misa's face. _Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck. She's gonna tell mom and dad and then, I'm fucked. Dammit._ "Don't do anything hasty, Misa-Misa, just calm down."

She blinked, and I died a little inside as she opened her mouth to yell at me. "Oh. My. God!" she squealed—wait, squealed? "You had a boyfriend and you didn't tell Misa-Misa? And look, he's so cute, too! Misa's so happy for you, Mihael!"

I almost fell over. "Wait, you're not mad at me for hiding it? And you don't hate me for being gay?" I asked, running a nervous hand through my hair as my sister giggled.

"Why, of course not; Misa-Misa's not mad at you! And she could never hate you, you're her twin brother! No matter what, she still loves you the same!" she answered, hugging herself tightly. "Besides, Misa-Misa's boyfriend is gay, so wouldn't it be hypocritical for her to hate gay people when she herself loves one?" I opened my mouth, closing it again and punching Matt in the shoulder after he muttered something about me and a gaping fish.

She turned and left, skipping down the hallway and rambling something about not doing anything naughty while she's gone and to not answer the door for strangers. Matt and I just stared at each other for a moment, neither of us moving or saying anything until we both started to crack up laughing. "What the hell just happened?" I gasped, clutching my side and grinning like an idiot.

"I have no idea," Matt giggled, holding his stomach while we both tried to regain our breath and our sanity. After a minute or so, he piped back up again. "So…"

"So…"

"…Light's gay?"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Crappy ending is very, _very _crappy.


	10. Study buddies

"What the fuck?" Mello demanded, nearly punching Matt for ripping his iPod out of his hands. The redhead just ignored his temperamental friend and sat down next to him on the bed, holding a piece of paper in one hand and a bag in the other. "What's your problem, Matt? I was listening to music!"

Shoving the paper in the blond's face, he said, "Spelling test. Tomorrow. 100 words. You fail, you're grounded. I'm here to help you study." He shook the bag. "Spell a word correctly, you get," he pulled one of the bag's contents out, "a kiss." Mello eyed the chocolate hungrily, shaking his head to get his focus back.

"Fine. Hit me with your best shot," he smirked, pulling one knee up and resting his elbow on it.

"Paradigm."

"P-A-R-A-D-I-G-M." Matt tossed his a chocolate, checking off 'paradigm' on the word list.

"Mononucleosis."

"M-O-N-O-N-U-C-L-E-O-S-I-S." Another foil-wrapped candy was handed to the blond.

Ninety-six words later, Mello hadn't missed a single one, and with only two left, the bag of treats was feeling much lighter. "Last two, Mels. Pneumonoultra...microscopicsilico...volcanokoniosis."

"P-N-E-U-M-O-N-O-U-L-T-R-A-M-I-C-R-O-S-C-O-P-I-C-S-I-L-I-C-O-V-O-L-C-A-N-O-K-O-N-I-O-S-I-S." Mello greedily wolfed down the chocolate Matt rewarded him with.

The gamer laughed at his friend, checking off the word on his list and taking a deep breath before beginning the next one. "Gorsafawd...dachaidraigodanhed...dogleddolonpen...rhynareurdraeth...ceredigio."

Mello breathed deeply before reciting, "G-O-R-S-A-F-A-W-D-D-A-C-H-A-I-D-R-A-I-G-O-D-A-N-H-E-D-D-O-G-L-E-D-D-O-L-O-N-P-E-N-R-H-Y-N-A-R-E-U-R-D-R-A-E-T-H-C-E-R-E-D-I-G-I-O." Grinning smugly, he leaned back lazily and added, "Kiss me, motherfucker."

The hacker smirked, glancing slyly at his chocolate fiend of a friend as he set the paper and pencil down on the bed, replaying Mello's words in his mind.

_Kiss me, motherfucker._

And he did.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Yay for big words I can't pronounce for shit! *party party party*

And yes, those are real words.


	11. Present tense

Mello's not quite sure why he does it.

One night, he's lying on his bed with his best friend, laughing and watching a movie after-hours even though Roger constantly tells them not to. Roger could say whatever he wanted but the rebellious blond never heeded any of it; rather, he finds it more important to spend time with Matt than listening to some old coot rattle on and on about rules and such.

The next time he turns to the rambunctious redhead, though, he finds that his partner in crime is already asleep, so he shuts the movie off and gathers the passed-out boy into his arms, deposits him onto his own bed, and pulls the covers over him. Mello's hand seems to gain a life of its own, and it brushes some hair out of Matt's face, sliding lightly down his cheek with the gentlest of touches. Although this action shocks the chocoholic, he does nothing to pull his hand away; instead, he leans in, a hair's width away from the other's face, and his breath hitches.

Then, he's moving in, pressing a feather-light, chaste kiss to Matt's lips, but before he pulls away completely he lingers for a moment, relishing in how soft his friend's mouth is. _At least he's asleep,_ he thinks to himself, sliding underneath his own blankets and burrowing into the warmth. _At least he won't find out._

He wakes up the next morning to find himself attached to Matt's lips, the redhead placing a hand on the back of Mello's neck to hold him in place. When the gamer breaks the kiss and leans back, all Mello can really do is stare at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushing.

"Y-You…knew?" he stutters, suppressing the want to touch his lips with his hand. "B-But…I…"

Matt chuckles, muttering 'light sleeper' before pressing forward again, and this time Mello presses back, tilting his head to the side and sighing as he runs his fingers through his friend's hair. His cheeks feel like they're on fire, and he's sure that Matt's feel like that too, but it's a good kind of fire; it's more of a marshmallow-roasting campfire type of fire than a raging wildfire, more tame and calm than wild and restless.

Mello loves it, and he absolutely adores the cute sounds Matt's making as he trails his hand down the hacker's bright red cheek. They're happy being together, being somewhere where no one can judge them, and they know that when they leave their room that people will start to talk.

But they don't care. As long as _they_ know that it feels **right**, they won't worry about others that say that it's wrong. They'll say that it's not right, that it's unnatural, that it's un-godlike and that they'd be going to hell. Mello and Matt won't give a damn about what the others say.

After all, what do they know?

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Oh, present tense, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways…

I'd say that the ages are about 11-12.


	12. Most people

High school is a time of growing up, a time of discovery, a time of finding out who the fuck you are and what the hell you're gonna do with your life. Most people come out okay; those who enter and continue to stay okay are more likely to come out okay than those of us who are less fortunate.

Like me and Mello.

Before I get into it, you should know a little about my school. Wammy Academy, school for the gifted; prestigious, expensive, complete with on-campus living arrangements. It's _not_ easy to get into, and even I had to jump through some hoops and do a few tricks before they considered me. Naturally, you can imagine that all the kids have conservative, homophobic parents that would frown heavily upon mine and Mello's relationship.

I first met Mello when Roger, the principal, was nice enough to show me to my room. He left me outside the door, and I thanked him before opening the barrier between me and my new roommate; contrary to popular belief, the snarky bastard and I weren't friends right off the bat. In fact, he hated my guts for four months straight because I mistook him for a girl at first glance.

He broke my nose, but it's cool because I broke his wrist. Hey, all's fair in love and war.

So, as predicted, he spent the entire fucking semester glaring daggers at me whenever I entered his presence, even despising me to the point of openly teasing me in class because I looked a little different; I like goggles and stripes. Sue me. He broke my shit, he gave me shit about my shit, and he threw _his _shit all over the room, no matter how much I cursed his soul to the eternal pits of Hell.

After five months of putting up with Mello's bullshit, I stomped right up to him and grabbed the book he was reading, scowling at him. "I wanna start over," I demanded, forehead pressed up against his. "First things first; hello, my name is Matt," I added, stepping back and holding out my hand.

Hesitantly, he took it, saying, "Hey, Matt. I'm Mello." From then on, we grew closer every day we spent together, eventually pulling past the awkward 'not really enemies' stage into the full-blown 'friendship' stage of our relationship. I noticed that he was a lot easier to get along with, and some of the other students told me this as well, after we became friends; he smiled more, he was more agreeable, and he was less of an asshole.

Once you get to know someone like Mello really well, it's hard to be away from them for long periods of time. There was a time, though, that I spent almost an entire day away from him, and purposely, too; I was avoiding him because of something he did one evening after dinner. We'd just gotten back from the dining hall and were sitting on his bed, him reading a book and me playing with my DS. "H-Hey, Matt?" he stuttered, drawing my attention from my game to his uncertain face. Before I could say anything, he leaned in and quickly kissed me, pulling back not even a second later. Shocked, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

All the teachers would be back in their rooms, so I found no harm in sprinting down the halls and down the stairs to sit down outside the counselor's office. I knew that L would be back in his office at nine in the morning, so I decided to wait it out until morning. When he did come, I was already awake and pacing back and forth in front of the door.

"Matt?" he asked, surprised; he knew me well, but I'd never come to his office before. "May I ask why you're here, Matt?" He unlocked the door and invited me in, motioning to the chair in front of his desk that I unceremoniously dropped down into. "What's wrong?"

Looking elsewhere, I muttered, "Mello kissed me." In my peripheral vision, I could see his eyes widen as he processed what I had said.

"Oh," he started, "so that's it. Tell me, what did you do after?"

"I ran."

He dropped a few sugar cubes into his tea before tasting it and grimacing, adding a few more. "Why did you run?"

"…because it's not right."

"Boys liking other boys?" he pressed, adding even more sugar cubes to his tea. How the fuck did he not have diabetes?

"No."

He sighed. "Then what's wrong about it? That it's Mello? What your parents would think? What his parents would think? What everyone else would think? What?"

"No, none of those…it's just…" I trailed off, feeling a blush trying to creep its way onto my face. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore. "IT'S NOT RIGHT THAT I SHOULD WANT TO KISS HIM BACK!"

L didn't look repulsed, disgusted, or even shocked like I thought he'd be. Instead he looked rather…pleased? "Are you holding back because of some ulterior consequences that would ensue were you and Mello to begin a relationship that surpasses friendship?" I shook my head. "Then what's stopping you?"

I spent a total of about an hour talking to L, and after wandering around the grounds for a while I returned to my room, checking my watch to see that it was 10:43. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to find Mello standing in the window, leaning on the windowsill and taking no notice that I had even entered the room. Walking up to him, I tapped on his shoulder a few times and he spun around; I didn't give him a chance to do anything before placing one hand on the back of his head and pulling myself forward, crushing my lips against his. He stiffened for a moment, eventually relaxing and pressing back, resting his hands on my flushed cheeks.

Never in my life had I ever felt so loved than when Mello was kissing me.

Life for us went on as it always had, just with a few embraces and kisses added in, though changes like this were definitely for the better. We were never open in public, not until one day in the dining hall; lunchtime to be exact. Moving his food out of the way, he hoisted himself up onto the table, grabbing my hand and pulling me up to stand next to him. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, catching everyone's attention and causing a silence to fall over the room.

"Attention, everyone. I have an important announcement to make," he said authoritatively. I vaguely wondered why the hell he needed me up on the table too, but my entire train of thought hopped the tracks and fell off a cliff when he pressed his mouth to mine. Soon after, much too soon for my liking, he pulled back, smirking at me despite the collective gasps resounding through the students. "Oh, c'mon, people. It's _me _and _Matt_. You can't honestly say you **didn't **see this coming."

Everyone made noises that sounded like agreement, and just went back to their lunches and previously interrupted conversations as Mello and I got off the table. I almost fell over after fully thinking through what had just happened; they accepted us. They didn't hate us, they didn't ostracize us, and they didn't tease us.

It was beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the heavenly specimen seated next to me and chatting animatedly with Light, one of the students in the class above us. From the corner of my eye, I could see L smiling softly and nodding, and I nodded my head slightly in thanks.

As I look back now, I can sincerely say that high school wasn't so bad. I believe I turned out okay, and if the fact that Mello and I are living together and still very much in love says anything, he ended up pretty good as well.

Most people go through the four years of pure, unadulterated hell known as high school relatively uneventfully; they do their work, get their grades, and maybe have a relationship or two. Most people don't usually fall in love with their roommate, come out of the metaphorical closet standing on a table during lunchtime, or actually stay together with their first love for life.

Well, Mello and I aren't most people.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Hallelujah, some AU high school fluff for you all~!

I think L would make a great school counselor. LOL :D


	13. Hate my job

As Takada's bodyguards raised their guns toward me, I opened the car door and stepped out, arms in the air. "Hey, c'mon, gimme a break. Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry around such big guns?" They weren't amused by my performance, but I smirked anyways. "You got me," I smugly confessed around my cigarette, "I'm part of this whole kidnapping incident; that means you'll have a whole lot of questions to ask." They knew that I was an accomplice in this whole fucking _mess_, but what they didn't know was that I had my gun tucked between my neck and my vest; reaching for it, I added, "You won't shoot—"

"CUT!" God damn him. Whipping my head around to face the director, I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Cockier, Matt, cockier." What. The. Hell. "You've got to sell the personality or nobody will take your character seriously."

"The fuck, man! I don't even get two minutes of fucking screen time! Why the hell would anybody care what my personality is like?" I complained, raising my arms as if asking 'really?' and raising both my eyebrows. "I'm takin' a break. Be back in twenty." I stormed over to the food table, sending a scathing glance at the feminine blond laughing at me.

Snapping off a piece of a chocolate bar, he asked, "Having a rough time out there, Mattie?" Yeah, right. Like he would know. He gets to run around in skin-tight leather, eat chocolate bars all day long, and get paid for it. I get a minute and a half of screen time, a grand total of like, five fucking lines, and the chance of heat stroke that might occur from having to wear a long sleeved shirt and heavy jeans. "That was what, the seventeenth time you've almost gotten shot today?"

"Eighteenth," I muttered under my breath, biting furiously into a bagel and scowling at my chuckling 'best friend,' who had opened up and started eating yet another bar of chocolate. I use quotes around 'best' and 'friend' because that's the part he plays. It's not to say that we're not actually best friends, because we are, but our actual friendship is just about the complete fucking opposite of the one our characters have. "What do you know, Mr. Lace-up Leather Pants? You get whores, all the chocolate you could ever eat, and you get to see a naked babe before you die. What do I get? Shot. Multiple. Fucking. Times. Oh, and don't even get me started on the stripes. Goddamn, the stripes. I fucking hate stripes."

Mello snorted, shaking his head at me. "To be completely honest, if you swapped the red for white and dyed yourself a redhead, you'd look like the Hamburglar. Keep your hair brown and find a pair of handcuffs and you'd look like a convict." Oh yeah? At least I don't look like a transvestite stripper that sold his soul to the Mafia. I took off my vest, handing it to one of the set hands and stretching loudly, smirking after hearing a pop emanate from my back. "You're pretty short, too."

"Yeah," I started, rolling my eyes and pushing the damn goggles over my eyes up onto my forehead, "you have room to talk, Mello of the five-foot-six clan. Your part isn't that bad, actually. I'd give up mine in a heartbeat for yours; you got a hot babe wrapped around you on the back of a motorcycle. I didn't even get one chick."

"Why do you want a chick?" He grinned evilly and stalked up to me, fisting a hand in my hair and placing the other on my chest. "Am I not cutting it for poor ickle Mattie-kins?" he teased, pulling me up to meet his mouth as I wrapped my arms around his neck, parting my lips willingly when he nibbled on my bottom lip.

Oh, you're confused, aren't you? Weeeeell, 'friends' might not be the most accurate term to describe Mello and I. 'Friends with benefits?' Maybe. 'Boyfriends?' Nah, not really. 'Lovers?' …hell no. We're just really close friends that happen to both be flaming fucking homosexuals that seemed to like, imprint on each other. Yeah. Sure. We'll go with that.

Honestly, does it really matter what we were? He had his _tongue_ in my _mouth_. And it was _awesome_. I'm not complaining. Besides, with all the chocolate he eats, Mello's got some mad kissing skills, and yay me for getting to be on the receiving end; I'd rather it be me than some random hoe you could find on a street corner.

"Matt, the director needs you back on set in five minutes," my assistant Nikki informed me, but I ignored her and ran my fingers through Mello's hair, lazily rolling my tongue around the inside of his mouth. The director could go fuck himself; I was busy. "Matt—" I held up my index finger, indicating for the bitch to give me a minute to finish up and then I'd tread back over to try to get shot _once again_. Prying myself quite unwillingly away from Mello, I snatched my vest back and put it on, repositioning my goggles over my eyes.

Light scoffed, looking over L's shoulder as the scruffy genius busied himself with pleasuring the other's neck and pushing him against a wall. "You two are so gay," he sneered, shuddering as his 'attacker' licked below his ear. I flipped him off and continued walking toward the bitchin' Camaro I got to drive, stepping back inside and sticking my head out the window.

"Alright, Mr. Director, sir. I'm ready." I lit up a cigarette, leaning my elbow on the doorframe and sighing. I really, really hate my fucking job. But hell, it keeps food on the table and video games in the closet, so it can't be all bad. "Besides," I mused out loud, looking over at Mello and winking after he made an obscene, provocative gesture using his hands and tongue, "it has its perks."

"And…ACTION!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Holy pork rinds, Batman, this chapter is late!


	14. First boyfriend

He was gonna do it. He was finally gonna do it. After six months of preparation, watching, note-taking, and self-lecturing, he was finally just gonna go for it. What could go wrong? He liked her, and it was a pretty popular rumor that she liked him back. Okay. Deep breaths. He could do this.

Ringing the doorbell, the sixteen-year-old nervously gulped and readjusted his collar, wishing he'd worn a t-shirt because damn, was it hot outside or was it just him? Shifting from foot to foot, his heart skipped a beat as he heard her walking to answer the door, and he nearly melted when she opened the door, stepping over the threshold and into the midday sunlight. "Oh, Matt!" she smiled, brushing her soft-looking bangs out of her eyes and giving the blushing brunet a quick hug. "What's up, Mattie?"

Fumbling around for the right words, he thrust the small bouquet of flowers in his hand at her and stuttered, "Um, I-I was wondering if you w-wanted t-to go out with m-me s-s-sometime." He could feel himself flushing to his roots, but his heart dropped at the look on Mello's face.

"Matt," she sighed, averting her eyes to the ground, "I'm a boy."

So what if he didn't have the right equipment? Love is love, and Matt was damn sure that he was in love. After many other failed relationships, he'd never felt as strongly for anyone other than Mello. Plus, why limit yourself to only girls when there are plenty of awesome guys out there? "D-Do you s-still wanna go out with m-me?" Mello's face lit up, and his grin widened as he took Matt's hands in his, rubbing the backs with his thumbs.

"Sure, I'd love to go out with you," he replied, stepping closer. "I just have one question."

"O-Okay."

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, biting his bottom lip as Matt nodded, trance-like. Why not? He'd never objected to kissing any of his other dates. Letting go of the gamer's hands, Mello slid his fingers into messy brown locks, tangling them at the nape of Matt's neck and leaning in, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Are you sure?"

Matt didn't even answer before wrapping his arms around the other's neck and closing the gap between their lips, kissing Mello hungrily and wondering where in the hell that kind of aggression came from, because he knew for sure that he was never this rough with any of the girls he dated. The blond kissed him back for a few moments, moving to break the kiss before being pulled back in by the brunet, opening his mouth when Matt bit down on his bottom lip. Running out of breath, Matt tangled his tongue with Mello's one last time before pulling back, his arms still around the blond's neck as both panted for air, cheeks flushed and chests heaving.

"Pick you up at seven tonight?" Matt breathed, and Mello nodded as the brunet disentangled himself from his new boyfriend, turning to walk back to his house; he stopped when Mello called his name.

"Hey, Matt?"

He turned back around. "Yeah?"

Mello kissed him again, stepping back only a second or two after starting. "Don't be late."

The gamer laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing over his shoulder as he left. "Wouldn't dream of it," he chuckled, smiling to himself as he heard Mello walk back into his house, closing the door. Even through the barrier of the door, Matt could still hear Mello talking (more like yelling), along with another, much more female voice.

"KYAAAAAAA~! Why didn't you tell Misa you had a boyfriend? That was so hot!"

"Shut the fuck up, Misa! My love life is none of your fucking business! And stop watching me and Matt, you sick freak!"

"Don't talk to Misa-Misa like that!"

"I'll talk to you however the fuck I want!"

"DADDY! MIHAEL'S BEING MEAN!"

"MOM! MISA'S BEING A NOSY BITCH!"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Has anyone noticed a pattern of Misa's relationship to Mello in most of my stories? LOL

Y'all have to admit, they could be twins.


	15. The real reason

L died.

I left Wammy's.

Matt followed.

That's how it went, right?

Wrong.

I hightailed it out of Wammy's House in December of '07, but Matt had left around October; normally after dinner, he'd head back to our room and start up one of his many game consoles to waste the time away before lights out. One particular evening, I couldn't find him anywhere, and when I got back to our room I found the walls devoid of his posters, the closet without any of his clothes, and all his games, consoles, and other personal affects missing, with only a note, scrawled quickly on a torn piece of notebook paper, sitting on his pillow. Hand trembling, I picked it up and read it.

I'm sorry, Mello. I had to  
leave Wammy's. I never wanted to become  
L anyways. You're my absolute  
best friend, and it's not  
easy for me to leave you here.  
I know that you'll be okay and one day you'll finally kick  
Near's ass and be number one.  
Lord knows you deserve it, Mels,  
and maybe one day we'll meet up again.  
—Matt

That night, I cried more tears than I ever had before, combined. For the next two months, I didn't go anywhere without that note, even when Roger called Near and I into his office one shitty December morning to break just about the worst news that either of us could've fathomed. I couldn't believe my ears, and I just stood there open-mouthed as Roger closed his eyes and dropped his head.

"What was that?" I demanded, body frozen in shock. "Roger, what'd you just say?"

Sighing, he answered, "I'm afraid…L is dead."

Near, ever the emotionless twat, just sat there, not even reacting to what Roger had said; I, however, couldn't fucking believe what he'd just told us. Our mentor, our reason for aspiring, was dead? It couldn't be possible! It just couldn't! "He's dead?" I repeated, stepping forward to lean my hands on Roger's desk. "But-But how!" I leaned in further. "Was it Kira? Did Kira kill him? C'mon, Roger! You've got to tell me!"

"Probably," he replied as I pulled myself up onto the desk on my knees and grabbed him by his shoulders.

"But he promised me he'd find Kira and execute him! And now you're telling me, he's been killed?"

I gripped him tighter. "Augh! Mello!"

The sound of pieces of something falling to the floor caught my attention, and I released Roger before turning around to see Near with his puzzle board overturned, allowing the pieces to fall. I just stared at him as he sat there, turning the board right side up before starting the puzzle over. "If you can't win the game, if you can't solve the puzzle, then you're just a loser."

What an ass. Banging my fist down on the desk, I faced Roger again. "So, which of us did L pick? Me, or Near?" Jesus, I hoped he'd picked me. The last thing I wanted was for that albino chickenshit to succeed L.

"He hadn't chosen yet," the old man said softly, his voice almost too low to hear. "And now that he's gone, I'm afraid he won't be able to." I scoffed. "Mello, listen. You too, Near. Can't the two of you work together?" HELL NO, OLD MAN.

"Alright, sounds good," Near agreed, not even bothering to look up at me. Once again, what an ass.

I made a face, absolutely scandalized to think that Roger actually believed that Near and I could work together without killing each other. "It'll never work, Roger," I warned, voice wavering. "We can't do this together; you know I _don't _get along with Near." Shit, everybody in the entire goddamn orphanage knew I'd like nothing more than to gut the midget bastard and dance on his grave. "We've **always** competed against each other. Always." After a few moments, I spoke up again. "Y'know what, it's fine. Near should be the one to succeed L. He's not like me; he never gets emotional, he just uses his head, like it's a game or a puzzle." It was do or die time, and I remembered Matt's note lying in my pocket, deciding it was time for me to leave. "And as for me, I'm leaving this…_institution_."

"Wait, Mello!" Roger started, but I just turned and walked away.

"Don't waste your breath," I grit out, heading out the door. "I'm almost fifteen years old. It's time I started living my own life!" Once out in the hallway, I broke into a sprint and bolted to my room, throwing as much shit into a duffel bag as I could, sitting down on Matt's bed and taking out his note, rereading it for the umpteenth time that day. It was only then that I realized he'd hidden a clue in the words themselves, and I hastily took out a sheet of paper and a pencil, analyzing the note carefully.

I

L

L

B

E

I

N

L

A

ILLBEINLA

I'll be in LA.

LA.

Los Angeles.

Matt had never wanted me to forget about him, he'd always wanted me to come after him. He specifically told me where he was going, but I was so blinded by trying to beat the shit out of Near that I hadn't noticed the extra note hidden within the actual writing. Putting the note back in my pocket, I stormed out the front door of Wammy's for the last time, trudging along the streets of England and hailing a taxi to get a ride to Heathrow.

Once I actually made it to Los Angeles, I wasted no time putting my investigative skills to work and trying to find my best friend. Regretfully, I joined the Mafia with hopes that maybe, just maybe, I could find Matt faster if I had cronies working with me. Luckily enough, after about a year and a half I found out that our hacker just happened to be the very Matt I was looking for, and when I finally met up with him he welcomed me with open arms, apologizing over and over and over again for leaving me as I just held him tighter.

He was exactly the same as I remembered him: striped shirt, brown hair, blue eyes, dorky as fuck goggles, and a quirky little smile that wasn't quite straight. "I'm so glad I found you," I grinned, hugging him tightly and resting my chin on his shoulder. "Promise me you'll never leave again."

Laughing, he hugged me back, saying, "Why would I ever wanna do a fool thing like that, Mels? You're all I ever needed to be happy, and you're right here. Why would I give that up? So, they finally kick you out of Wammy's for being a destructive bitch?"

Stepping back, I shook my head, hooking my thumbs in my waistband. "L…is dead. Near's gonna be his successor. I left to find you."

"Wait, you willingly left and forfeited any chance of being L? To Near? Who are you and what have you done with Mello?"

I punched him playfully in the shoulder, pulling a few strands of his hair. "I'm still gonna beat him, Matt! I'm gonna find Kira first, and see to it that he gets executed for what he's done."

He ruffled my hair, slipping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him. "Well, in that case, welcome back, Mello."

Yes, L did die.

Yes, I did leave Wammy's.

Yes, Matt and I did find each other again.

It's just that he left first, and I followed. I couldn't live without him and, sad as it was, L's death was the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out of Wammy's and go track him down. Every morning, I'd wake up to the sound of 1ups and victory tunes, and I couldn't help but smile as I remembered that I'd missed this so much I'd risked life and limb just to get it back.

And I'm definitely glad I did.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **A different take on the 'Mello leaves' spiel.

Good, bad, horrible, other comments? Go ahead and leave a review! Let me know if I screwed anything up, either. :D


	16. Timeline

Mello was on a fucking rampage. Like, a _fucking _rampage. Lock up your daughter and lock up your wife, then lock up your back door and run for your fucking life, sir.

"Who shot him?" the temperamental blond demanded, glaring at everyone in the general vicinity as he carried Matt piggy-back style. "Was it you, Jason?" he hissed, pointing a very scared-looking brunet that was fervently shaking his head and making odd squeaking noises. "Was it you, Vince?" The raven-haired male held his hands out, waving them intensely in a show that no, it wasn't his fault. "Oh, so then was it you, Claire?" Claire shook her head, raising her eyebrows. "Which one of you asses shot Matt?"

The redhead tightened his grip on his best friend, nuzzling into the back of his neck. "Mels, I'm fine. It's okay if they got me; that's the point. That's what paintball is about."

Mello set him down at the base of the nearest tree, plopping down next to him as Matt wiped the sploosh of paint off his bare calf. "But still!" the eight-year-old argued, lacing his fingers with the gamer's and pulling him into an impromptu hug. "Somebody still shot you, and it was my job to cover you!"

Laughing, Matt gave him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up and pulling the blond up with him, walking hand-in-hand back to the house. "Stuff happens, Mello. You just gotta live and let it die. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

He nodded, blinking at the seven-year-old's innocence.

"Then there's no problem. Now c'mon, let's go eat lunch."

* * *

When Mello walked into their shared room at Wammy's House, he found his eleven-year-old best friend/roommate lying sprawled out and face down on his bed, the lights off. Flipping the switch, he sat down next to the somber redhead, placing a hand on the small of his back. "Mattie, what's the matter?" he asked, sincerely worried about the other boy.

"Linda tried to kiss me today," he replied, sinking further into the plush comforter and sighing dramatically. _So, that's why he's all moody and depressed?_ Mello thought, rubbing Matt's back as the gamer purred slightly. _That's no big deal; hell, that's something to be proud of! A girl finally likes him!_ "I ran away, though."

What? "Why? She obviously likes you, so why not just take it and go with it?"

"'Cause I just…" He rolled over. "Look, it's not like I don't wanna get my first kiss, I just want it to be with someone I actually like and stuff. Like you. I don't like you like _that_, but I at least can stand being in your presence for extended periods of time."

"I'm not gonna kiss you, y'know."

Sighing, Matt responded, "Yeah, yeah. I know. I don't really want you to, either. I mean, we're both boys. It's weird."

Mello nodded, stretching out to lie down next to his friend.

* * *

"You stupid fucking piece of horse shit, I'll murder you! You're going to hell, you sick motherfucking bastard!" Matt swore around his cigarette, mashing buttons maniacally and seething at the television as Mello entered the room, eyes wide and arms full of chocolate.

Clearing his throat, he began, "Wow. When I left, I wasn't planning on returning to your goddamn potty mouth." The fourteen-year-old just flipped him off and went back to cursing the game character's soul to the fiery pits of hell while trying to beat his ass into submission. Unplugging the television, which resulted in much cursing, Mello placed one hand on his hip, cocking an eyebrow at his best friend. "C'mon, let's go outside," he commanded, opening the window and gracefully climbing out onto the thick tree branch, pulling Matt outside with him.

"So, what's new?" the redhead asked, putting out his cigarette and letting the butt drop to the ground below. "Fuck anybody lately?" This earned him a slap to the back of the head.

"I'm not a slut, Matt."

"You bounce from girl to girl, Mels. I'm damn sure that constitutes a slut."

"I never had sex with any of them. Oh, and I broke up with Ashley today."

"Shame. Why?"

Mello chuckled. "She's convinced that I'm gay. Didn't want to date a gay guy."

The gamer's eyes widened. "Are you?"

Shrugging, Mello replied, "Dunno. I'm glad we broke up, though; she was a terrible kisser."

"You would know."

The blond turned toward his friend. "Still haven't gotten that kiss?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Here's an idea: I'll kiss you, which would help both of us out. You'd get your first kiss, and I could see whether or not I'm gay."

Matt flushed. "I-I'm not quite sure about that…"

"Psh, don't be that way. I'm not gonna hurt you, or some shit like that. It's a kiss, Mattie. Nothing big. I'm not asking to have sex with you."

"…fine. Might as well get it over with."

Adjusting his position so that he was straddling the branch, Mello motioned for Matt to do the same before scooting forward and cupping the redhead's bright red cheek. He slid his hand into Matt's hair, leaning forward and just barely brushing their lips together, pulling his friend closer after he made no move to reject what was coming, molding their mouths together. Breaking the contact not long after, Mello drank in Matt's flustered expression, cheeks flaming and eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

"S-So, did you g-get your answer?" Matt stuttered, twisting his hands in his lap nervously.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Mello answered, "I…liked it, but I still like kissing girls, too."

"C-Cool. Um, can we just forget this happened? I feel…really awkward."

"Sure. And, uh, me too."

* * *

"Wh-What?" the fair-skinned brunette squeaked, tears threatening to flow from her trembling aqua eyes. "You're breaking up with me? Why?"

Mello sighed, stirring his hot chocolate absently. "I just don't feel anything for you. I'll admit, at first it was great, but it's just not the same anymore. You're a really pretty girl, and I think you're awesome to hang out with, but I just don't have romantic feelings toward you. I'm sorry." She left, crying, and Mello swore under his breath. That was the fourth girlfriend that year, and it was only May. Why the hell couldn't he hold down a relationship? Shit, being twenty-four sucked.

"Is this seat taken?" a vaguely familiar voice asked, and Mello looked up to see a brownish-redhead standing there, smiling at his old friend. He shook his head, and Matt sat down across from the blond, leaning his elbows on the table. "I haven't talked to you since you left Wammy's at eighteen," he started, "and it's pure coincidence that I met you here."

"It's good to see you too, Mattie."

Pursing his lips, Matt inquired, "So, who was she?"

"Girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend now. I haven't had much luck with dating and such since I left Wammy's. What about you?"

"I've had a few girlfriends," he admitted, resting his chin in his hands. "Half the time I couldn't figure out why the fuck I was dating them in the first place; I just never really had a connection with any of them."

Mello snorted, standing up and walking out the door. "Amen to that."

Blushing, Matt followed him and continued with, "None of them kissed as well as you. Having you as my first kiss might've set the standard a bit too high."

"Erm, I'm sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. Do you think that…?"

The blond cracked a half-smile. "Why not?"

Wrapping his arms around Mello's neck, Matt moved forward and kissed him, in plain view of everyone walking the streets. Tilting his head further to the side, he opened his mouth when his best friend requested it, pressing closer and sighing in delight as he tried to suppress the moan urging to burst from the back of his throat. They ignored the stares of passers-by, thoroughly wrapped up in each other and in their own little world, which consisted of themselves and the quiet tranquility of thoughtlessness.

It was just like the first time.

Only better.

* * *

"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT!" Mello growled, storming into their room in their shared apartment and slamming the door against the wall, shaking a pair of pink socks at his boyfriend. "Did you wash those damn red jeans with my whites?" Shrinking under his gaze, Matt nodded and shrank back further. "Dammit, Matt, you turned all my white shit pink!"

"I'm sorry!" he apologized, hiding behind his PSP and shaking in fear. "I didn't mean to!"

Stomping out of the room, Mello sighed exasperatedly, "Why do I even put up with you?"

"Because you love me!" Matt shot back, juvenilely sticking his tongue out at the blond's retreating back and returning to his previously paused game. Maneuvering Zack Fair through the level, he muttered, "You'd never yell at me, would you, Zack? But Mels loves me, and he knows that sometimes I'm stupid, and holy shit, I'm talking to a game." Saving his progress and shutting off the handheld, he stood up and stretched, slinking to the living room and lying down with his head in Mello's lap.

"I'm still pissed at you," Mello informed him, flipping to the next page in his book. _I know you didn't mean it._

"I don't care, I'm comfy." _I'm still really sorry. I love you._

Rolling his eyes, he murmured, "Whatever," and snuck a hand underneath Matt's shirt, tracing invisible designs on his torso and rubbing his stomach. _I love you, too._

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Fluff. Lots and lots of fluff.

Kiddie Mello and kiddie Matt always give me strange urges to squish cute things with cuddles. :D


	17. Fatherly advice

One in the afternoon on a spring day at Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children was just like any other spring day at one in the afternoon in England: rainy as all hell. Much to the chagrin of the many young geniuses inhabiting Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children, the caretaker, Roger Ruvie, did not allow them to play outside in rainstorms, lest they get sick and make it his fault. It was well known that Roger did not like children one bit, but most of the kids thought that he stayed the caretaker for ulterior motives, though none really cared to find out said ulterior motives.

This is why, one spring day at one in the afternoon, Mihael Keehl, addressed as and known only by his alias Mello, was standing in the window of the room he shared with Mail Jeevas, addressed as and known only by his alias Matt, staring out wistfully at the soaked lawn and willing the rain to stop. Mello was the second ranked student at Wammy's, falling only a couple points behind Nate River, addressed as and known only by his alias Near, and constantly strived to become better. Matt was the third ranked student, but had no real interest in overtaking the other two; rather, Matt would choose sitting in and playing Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core over becoming the next L.

L was a rather unique fellow. A genius himself, he was the world's top three detectives, addressing himself as L, Eraldo Coil, and Danuve, though the students at Wammy's knew him simply as L. All of them looked up to L as their mentor, and it was a big deal whenever he had enough time to take a break from a case or in between cases to drop by and say hi. Many of the students often went to him for advice, seeing as he was the world's top three detectives, and Near, Mello, and Matt were not excluded from the advice-seekers.

"Come in," L called from his spot on the plush carpeted floor, inviting the visitor knocking on his door to enter his room. After turning the knob and opening the door, a thirteen-year-old Matt stepped in, trademark goggles pushed up onto his forehead and trademark black-and-white striped shirt his customary two sizes too big. His baggy denim jeans were low on his hips, and he hiked them up before tightening his belt, though the bottom of the pants still dragged on the ground. "Good afternoon, Matt. I take it you wish to speak to me about something pressing?"

He nodded, messy auburn locks shifting with the movement of his head as he kicked at the carpet a bit with his bare toe, refusing to make eye contact with his mentor. "I…wanted to know your opinion on something," he replied nervously, glancing up slightly to see the scruffy-haired genius giving him his undivided attention, despite the tempting piece of cake situated in front of him. Gaining enough courage to look L in the eyes, he sat down a foot or so away in front of him, drawing his knees up to his chest in the same manner the older man did. "Is it okay for…" he trailed off, his lightly freckled cheeks gaining a hint of pink as L cocked his head to the side, studying gaze questioning the younger.

"Is it okay for what, Matt?" he pressed, sliding the cake toward the redheaded teen, which he politely and silently refused. He shifted, his own blue jeans scratching against the carpet as he scooted closer to the third of his successors.

"Is it okay for…" Matt started again, cheeks flushing darker as he buried his mouth in his kneecaps, muttering something inaudible to even L, who was seated less than a foot away from him. Looking up, fantastically emerald eyes took in the confused look on the older genius' face and he took a shaky breath before blurting out what was troubling him, blushing even redder and pointedly looking away from L. "I wanted to know if it's okay for boys to like other boys!"

The room grew silent for a moment; the only sounds heard were the shakiness of Matt's uneven breathing, the slow tempo of L's controlled air intake, and the laughter of the other orphans playing around in the hallways. "Matt," L began, and the gamer winced and shut his eyes tightly, expecting a nasty 'no' or for the older man to be disgusted, "who told you it wasn't?"

Blinking the tears welling in the corners of his eyes away, he responded, "L-Linda said that it wasn't normal for boys to think of other boys like that. She said that people like that burn in hell for all of eternity and that they're condemned from the moment impure thoughts first enter their minds." Sniffling, he threw himself at L, wrapping his arms tightly around him and pushing him onto his back, burying his face in his soft white shirt and sobbing violently. "I-I don't wanna go to hell!"

L rubbed his back soothingly, looking down at him with sympathy; despite the lack of familial relation to the orphans of Wammy's House, they were all still his children and he was their father, and for some of them the only father they'd ever known. Kissing the unruly scarlet locks, he murmured, "Have you talked to Mello about all this?" He was well aware of how close the two were, and they rarely went anywhere without the other, including to see him.

Matt shook his head, nuzzling further into L's chest and sniffling louder. "I c-can't tell Mello!" he insisted, squeezing the detective tighter as L continued rubbing his back and mopping up his tears.

"You can't tell Mello because he's Catholic?" L asked, running long, spindly fingers through Matt's tangled hair and massaging the scalp.

"I c-can't tell Mello because…because…" Pressing his mouth into L's shirt in an attempt to muffle the answer, he said feebly, "Because he's the one I like."

At that exact moment, L understood. He understood Matt's confusion, he understood why he was in his room talking to him, and he understood why Mello wasn't there as well. The poor boy was only thirteen and already had a first love, but he was so scared of being labeled and persecuted that he kept everything bottled up inside, letting it out only when coaxed to do so. Resting his cheek on top of Matt's head, he whispered, "If he's truly your friend, Matt, you can tell him anything and he won't hate you. I've seen the way he acts around you, and I think you should come out and tell him how you feel; unless the kindness he displays with you is nothing but a rouse, he'll understand and accept you."

"You…you really think so?" Matt wondered hopefully, picking his face up from L's chest and letting him go, sitting up and wiping the tears away as L sat up as well, knees pulled to his chest again. He nodded; Matt beamed, giving him a peck on the cheek and thanking him as he sped out of his room, tripping over his pants and falling in the hallway during his mad dash to his room. Stationed outside his room's door, he bit his bottom lip before slowly turning the knob and shuffling in, shutting the door behind him.

The blond standing in the window turned around, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear and grinning at his best friend as Matt eased his way over to him. "Eh, Mattie! Where were you?" Without answering, the redhead simply sat down on the edge of Mello's bed, twisting his hands in his lap as his friend kneeled on the floor in front of him. "Matt, what's wrong?"

"I-It's just…um…you see…" Blushing madly, Matt stumbled over his words, face growing darker and darker with every passing moment. After realizing that his tongue wasn't going to cooperate, he fisted a hand in Mello's black cotton shirt and, without thinking, pulled him forward to meet his lips for a few seconds before recognizing what he was doing and scrambling away.

Speechless, Mello just sat there, touching his hand to his lips and turning a pretty shade of rose-petal pink as Matt looked away, not able to look at his best friend after what he did. "Matt, why—"

"I-I don't know," he grumbled, dropping his face into his hands.

"Why did you—"

"I'm sorry, Mello. I don't know what came over me."

"Why did you stop?"

"I'M SORRY, OKAY?" Backtracking to what the blond just said, he lifted his face from his hands, staring at Mello with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as the other boy just smiled, scooting closer. "Wh-What did you say?"

"I said," Mello smirked as he stood up, raising his hands and tangling his fingers in Matt's hair, "why did you stop?" Gently, he pulled the redhead up to him, covering his mouth with his own and letting a sigh escape into the kiss, tilting his head further to the side after Matt's shock wore off and he started to press back, wrapping his arms around the blond's neck and absently playing with the hairs at the nape. They pulled away slowly, still in each others' arms and blushing stupidly at what had just happened, but neither indicated that they hadn't enjoyed it.

At ten o' clock the next morning, L woke up to find a medium-sized box sitting on his nightstand, and the card showed that it was from Matt. Smiling softly, he read the card, glancing over at the box and setting the card down before opening it; inside was a strawberry cheesecake, which Matt had made as a 'thank you' for his help yesterday. He looked out his window to see the redhead and the blond sitting outside underneath the shade of a tree, wrapped up in each other and enjoying the lack of people that were roaming around.

"All is well that ends well," the detective mused, selecting a slice of cheesecake and leaning on the windowsill, eating the cake and watching the boys.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **None of those poor orphans have parents, so I figured that L must be like their dad. I can see them going to him for advice and comfort.


	18. February 1st

Sitting on that horrid zebra-print couch in my hideout, I twirl my gun while waiting for Matt to show the fuck up so we can start the day. The idiot probably forgot what day it is anyway, so I really don't understand why I'm wasting my time on his stupid ass. He's always late, for fucking _everything_, and I personally think that six in the morning is a fantastically rational time to begin a day as special as this.

A few minutes after six, a groggy-looking redhead with unattractive bags under his eyes bursts lazily through the door, glaring at me. "Good morning, Mattie!" I chirp, pointedly ignoring the fact that he flips me off and starts muttering curses at me. "Jesus Christ. Don't you know what today is?"

"Friday?" he grumbles as he sits next to me, striking a match and lighting up a cigarette despite me always telling him to take it the hell outside. However, today is special, so I'll let him get away with it. I take a deep breath, willing away the scathing thoughts telling me to go over there right now and kick his ass for being a dick but no, not today. I can't do that today.

Shoving my gun down the front of my pants, I regard him again, saying, "Damn, Matt. I never thought that you, of all people, would forget your own birthday." He chokes on his cigarette, pulling it out of his mouth and staring wide-eyed at me as I munch on a chocolate bar. "Happy eighteenth, you useless son of a bitch. What do you want as a present? Name it, and it's yours."

"S-Seriously? Anything?"

I nod. "Yup. Don't forget, I'm in the Mafia, so my fiscal resources know no bounds."

"You sure?" he asks again, cocking his head to the side.

Nodding again, I take another bite of my addiction, waiting for him to answer.

"I want…a cherry-red 1970 SS Chevy Camaro."

Wow. Specific little bitch, isn't he? Laughing, I respond, "You got it, Mattie. Anything for my best friend and most reliable accomplice." He raises an eyebrow at me in disbelief. "Okay, fine. And you're amazing in bed. Happy?"

"Only because you admitted it!" he grins, saying it in a singsong voice and leaning in to catch me by the mouth, pulling me into his lap and running his hands along my thighs. Matt has magic fingers, I tell ya; with all that gaming he does, he's built up a lot of skill with those devilish digits, and they're _really _godlike when…never mind. Ask him about me and my fortes, and he'll tell you my tongue is fantastic at many, many things. Thank you, Hershey's.

Removing my tongue from his throat, I pant, "Huh, I just noticed that now, since you're eighteen and all, we can have sex without breaking any laws. Not that it stopped you before." A wicked smile spreads across his face as I lift his damn goggles up onto his forehead and trail my hand lightly down his cheek, moving back in to reconnect my lips with his. I pull some metal out of my pocket and pull back, waving the object in his face and smirking as his eyes light up and he takes the keys from my hand.

"How'd you know what I wanted before I told you?" he squeals, hugging me tightly and using the opportunity to molest my ass.

"Because I," I start, "know you. Happy fucking birthday."

He pushes me onto my back, crushing his mouth against mine and kissing me passionately, situating himself between my legs as he unzips my vest and runs his hands down my torso, making my back arch. "Wrong," he chuckles, fiddling with my belt buckle and untying the laces on my pants before putting those magic fingers to work and licking a stripe along my chest. "It's 'happy birthday fucking.'"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Thought I'd try out using present tense again, and I think it turned out okay. You'll have to forgive if there are any tense problems, as I'm used to writing in past tense.

Mello's a lucky guy…*LOL pervy face*


	19. Bored

Outside the window, a family of birds sang sweetly in harmony.

In the meadow nearby, a butterfly floated gently among the flowers.

Over my head, an incessant fly buzzed non-stop.

Inside my skull, my brain fucking exploded.

Boredom.

It sucks.

"Meeeelsssss," I whispered, leaning into his ear and resting my chin on his shoulder, "I'm bored." He didn't respond, just grunted quietly, and I occupied myself temporarily by sucking on a bit of his neck, making him freeze up before shrugging me off and flicking my nose when I tried it again. "But Mello, I'm so damn bored right now! Entertain me?" His cheeks gained a bit of pink after I licked the outside of his ear, but all he did was turn and glare at me, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

"Matt, we are in the middle of fucking U.S. History. Don't pull that shit right now," he demanded, facing the front again and smiling as the teacher called on him. Slumping down in my chair, I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest as Mello whipped out his essay, reading it aloud to the class after Mr. Franklin requested him to. "'In 1775, Thomas Paine composed _Common Sense, _unknowing at the time the affect it would have on the new nation. His pamphlet, along with other circumstances, would help to ignite the Revolutionary War and set in motion the "making" of America. Paine also wrote other political essays and pamphlets that would help shape the nation, but _Common Sense_ would be his greatest work. Although deemed controversial by some, his works were viewed by the majority of the colonists as gospel and as the road map to freedom from British rule.'"

Boring, boring, boring. An evil idea flashed over my mind on how to spice things up a bit, and I sneakily slid my hand into my favorite blond's pants, making his breath hitch as he continued through his essay. Hum de dum de dum, he's so cute when he's all hot and bothered, and I chuckled under my breath at this as I slowly stroked him, watching him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

"'T-Thomas Paine wa-was born i-in 1737 to a poor Quaker in Th-Th-Thetford, England. In hi-his early life, h-he was surrounded mostly by f-farmers and the un-uneducated. He le-left school at the a-age of twelve, and sh-shortly after bec-came apprenticed to h-his father as a corset m-maker. This tra-ade was to f-f-follow him through his day-ay-ays in England as his "s-something to fall back on" while ex-exploring various career o-options,' _ohhhhh_," he stumbled, catching the teacher's attention as he walked over and I removed my hand from Mello's pants, leaving him flustered, out of breath, and hard.

Mr. Franklin looked concerned as Mello stomped on my foot underneath the table, which, of course, went unnoticed by Franklin. "Mello, are you alright?"

"W-Well, you see—" he started, only to be cut off by Near, the class jerk.

"Mr. Franklin," the albino said smoothly, "Mello is what you might call 'hot and bothered,' as Matt was just giving him a hand job underneath their table. If I may be so bold, I would appreciate it if Matt didn't try to sex Mello up in the middle of class, because I was quite enjoying his essay and it's very hard to understand him when he's stuttering incoherently."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Franklin looked at me and asked, "You were giving him a hand job?" I nodded, unashamed; why should I be? I'm a teenager, these sorts of things happen. I was bored, and Mello was there. Why not? "Matt, that's the fifth time this week so far. Can't you wait until after class before you start violating Mello?" Shrugging, I raised my eyebrows and shook my head before smirking deviously. "Well, at least try. Alright class, you're dismissed for the day."

Angrily, Mello packed up his stuff and dragged me out of the classroom, shoving me into the nearest bathroom and locking us into a stall. "Fix this, you ass!" he growled, pointing to his very obvious crotch bulge as I laughed, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss before withdrawing and fiddling with the button on his pants.

"As you wish, Mello," I responded huskily, sealing our mouths together as I reached inside his pants again, swallowing his moan and purring into the kiss myself.

It was a win-win situation.

I got sex, and I wasn't bored anymore.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Matt, you dirty, dirty boy. ;D

Oh, and that essay that Mello wrote? Yeah, I'm the one that wrote it. I got an A on it, too.


	20. Sexuality

What is Mello to me?

_Your best friend. Mello's the person you're the closest to, and easily the only one you like being around._

True…but why does he make me feel all warm when he's around?

_That's just what having a best friend feels like._

Mmm, this lollipop's pretty tasty.

_FOCUS, YOU ASS._

Oh, right. But if it's just how having a friend feels, why don't I feel the same way around Near? He's my friend, too. Or at least, y'know, when Mels isn't around.

_Near isn't your __**best**__ friend. That's why you don't feel the same._

I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's a crush, weird as that seems.

_No, it's not a crush. You aren't gay, Matt._

Obviously. I don't like boys. Then again, I don't like girls, either.

_Poppycock. Of course you do; you just haven't found the right one yet._

Well, I think Linda's pretty cute 'n all, but I don't like-like her or anything. What flavor is this? It's heavenly. Tastes kinda…pineapple-y.

_MATT. FOCUS. PROBLEM AT HAND. FORGET THE FUCKING LOLLIPOP._

No, maybe it's more citrus-y. I can't really tell.

_GOD DAMN YOU, MATT._

What? Oh. That.

_FFFFFFFFFFFF…_

'Kay, so I've established that I don't like boys or girls, or at least I don't like anyone here at Wammy's. I only like Mello. But do I like-like Mello?

_No, because you aren't gay._

Duh, I don't like boys. But if I picture myself with Mello, I don't get all weirded out. What does that make me?

_Confused._

I think I'm Mello-sexual.

_No. Just confused. Hormones, man. Hormones._

Hormonal thoughts aside, I've never felt the same feeling I do with Mello with a girl my whole life. Damn sure I like-like him. So why doesn't it freak me out?

_NO, MATT. You don't like-like Mello; you're just confused and horribly mixed up in the head due to a natural hormonal imbalance. You're simply suffering from the pubescent increase in hormones which are affecting your better judgment._

I wonder what we're having for lunch today…?

…

Oh, sorry. Like I said, Linda's cute, and so are a couple other girls, but I just can't see myself with any of them. The only girl I could ever see myself with is that one model chick.

_Misa Amane?_

Yeah, that's the one. I think it's only 'cause she looks like Mello.

_Matt, you're not gay. You need to stop thinking about Mello like this. He's your best friend, and nothing more._

At the moment, maybe. Shit, he's coming into the room now.

_Not a word of your confused thought process to him._

I wonder if he's a good kisser…

_STOP WITH THE HOMOSEXUAL THOUGHTS! YOU'RE NOT GAY!_

"Hey, Matt! I couldn't find you anywhere else, so I figured you were in the room. What's up?"

"Nothin', just thinking." He's really cute.

_No! You like girls! Girls!_

"You think? Since when?"

He's really funny, too. Always knows how to make me laugh. "Haha, you're a riot. Mels, can I try something?"

_Don't do it!_

"Um, sure. What'd you wanna—mmph."

Wow. His lips are like, really fucking soft. This feels amazing and perfect and awesome and—holy shit, is he kissing me back? He is!

_NOOOOOOooooo…_

Oh my God, is that his tongue? I've just died and gone to heaven.

"Not that I…didn't like it, but what was…that for, Mattie?"

Damn if he doesn't look absolutely adorable all flushed and big-eyed. "Confirming my sexuality." Yep, it's official.

"…so, you're gay?"

Oh, cute, naïve little Mel-Mel. "Nope."

"Then what, pray tell, are you?"

"Mello-sexual." And I wouldn't have it any other way. "More kisses, now? If you want to, that—mmm…"


	21. Awkward Encounters of the Yaoi Kind

Why was it, pray tell, that in an orphanage full of genius children I couldn't find someone worth talking to? No matter how intelligent they were or claimed to be, all of them bored me eventually, with the exception of numbers two and three, or Mello and Matt, respectively. Unfortunately, Mello had made it his life's goal to eventually beat me and take the number one spot, ultimately being the one to succeed L.

For those of you too stupid to process what I just said, he hated me.

This doesn't mean I hated him, though.

I actually quite liked Mello; he's funny, he's sociable, he can carry on a conversation without going off-topic and boring the hell out of me, and he's not a bad guy. If only he could see that I wasn't out to get him. I actually wasn't. I just couldn't help that my intelligence surpassed his on a regular basis. I suppose I could've dumbed myself down, but that would've just created suspicion as I was ranked number one nine times out of ten.

Matt was a fairly good acquaintance as well, on the off chance that I could get him by himself and make sure that Mello wasn't anywhere in the general vicinity. He was the only one in the entirety of Wammy's House, including L and Quillish Wammy himself, that could and still can beat me at chess. That's really a high achievement, as I'm just about the best there is. Not to sound egotistical or anything, but it's true.

Everybody at Wammy's knew of Mello and Matt's close friendship; hell, the two shared a room, for Kami's sake. Think of it this way: two fifteen-year-old boys that have been sharing a room for ten years and haven't killed each other yet. The _best_ of friends, sir.

Linda had speculations that they were, in fact, boyfriends rather than just friends.

I promptly told her she was full of shit.

Then told Mello and got the door slammed in my face as he screamed profanities at me while Matt walked up behind me and just stared at the door.

Mello's very emotional.

Personally, I think it's adorable.

I told him that, too.

He punched me. It hurt.

So, what does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well, I was getting to it. So please, shut the hell up and be patient, you ninnies.

"GOD _DAMN_ YOU, MATT! GET THE HELL OFF ME SO I CAN GO KILL LINDA AND LEAVE HER BODY HANGING FROM THE FLAGPOLE!" Intrigued, I silently shuffled over to the crack in their open room door, seeing a thrashing Mello being pinned to the floor by a frantic-looking Matt. As quietly as possible, I nudged the door open just a tad more, enough to peek into the room with one eye and still see the entire scene playing out in front of me.

Grunting, Matt tightened his grip on the blond and shot back, "Mello, I'm not gonna let you do that! What the fuck did Linda do to make you this pissed off?" What did Linda do was a good question indeed. I found myself even more curious as to why Matt was sitting on his best friend as I clutched the robot in my hands closer to my chest, a small smile spreading across my face while I waited eagerly.

"She spread a rumor! A rumor, Matt!"

"Oh my God, is that it? It couldn't have been that bad!"

"**Matt**." His tone alone was almost enough to make me head for the hills, though I stayed put in hopes of figuring out the cause of this whole mess. "She said that she saw you…and me…kissing."

Matt blanched, as did I, and slackened his grip a little. "Wh-What?"

"Yep. That's what she said. And now, if you wouldn't mind, could you please get the fuck off me so I can wring her neck?"

"No. Mels, it's not that bad." Was he crazy? Seriously, was he? It seemed pretty damn bad to me, and I wasn't even a part of the rumor.

"Oh really? And why is that?"

No amount of studying could've prepared me for what happened next. Matt fisted his hands in the front of Mello's shirt, pulling him up and crushing his lips to his friend's, sliding his hands from his shirt into his hair and tilting his head further to the side before pulling away slowly, catching his bottom lip in his teeth.

I didn't know whether to be scared, satisfied, worried, or turned on.

Coincidentally, I chose the last one.

In later days, I chalked the fact that I stayed and continued watching up to Stockholm syndrome. It was like watching porn; nasty as it is, once you start, it's damn hard to stop.

"Because," Matt panted, fingers still tangled in blond strands, "now it's not a rumor." Still out in the hallway and spying on them, I felt my breath hitch as he moved back in, catching his mouth again despite Mello's dying attempts to push him away. The feminine hands pushing on Matt's chest slowly clenched into the fabric, dragging the boy on top closer to Mello while I felt pleasant warmth traveling to my lower abdomen, signaling to me that it was time to leave before something embarrassing happened.

I scrambled back to my own room, shutting the door quickly and leaning my back against it, trying to mentally process what I'd just seen. Hurrying to the bathroom, I locked myself in it lest my roommate decide to come back while I'm busy having a freaking sexuality crisis. Whether my own or those of Mello and Matt, I had no idea.

My reflection confirmed what I had predicted; my cheeks were flushed from a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and from running to my room, my knuckles were ghostly white (or at least, whiter than usual) from keeping the death grip on my toy, and my eyes were wide. Oh so wide. Wide, wide, wide.

At that time, I could barely string a sentence together. "Mello—Matt—k-k-kissing—L-Linda—AUGH!" Confused, I was so, so confused. Who should I tell? Linda? L? Mr. Wammy? Roger? Mello and Matt themselves? Or should I keep it a secret? Undoubtedly, if something like…_that_ got out in the open without Mello or Matt's consent heads would be rolling, and knowing Mello he'd make damn sure that mine was one of the first, regardless of my involvement in the matter.

And that, dear readers, was the main problem. When you see something like I did, the natural response is to run around like a chicken missing its head and scream what it is to the entire freaking world. Sadly, this was the last thing I needed to do, so long as I wanted to live to see eighteen.

So what did I do? I kept it a secret.

At least until I couldn't bear it anymore.

Two years after the, um, _incident_, I was sitting in the common area and playing with my toys as always, when out of nowhere Mello strutted in like a supermodel (lately he'd taken to wearing skintight leather in a vain attempt to look sexy. It was only vain because he didn't realize he was sexy already) and sat next to me, arms crossed over his chest and scowling. Before I could open my mouth, he beat me to it. "Matt says I should be nicer to you."

This prompted me to say _the_ most unintelligent thing I could've possibly uttered at that moment. "I saw you and Matt making out two years ago!" I slapped a hand over my mouth, looking away from Mello and blushing furiously, waiting for the imminent death that was sure to befall me sometime soon. When I snuck a glance back at him, all I saw was humor and curiosity. "M-Mello?"

"Dude, you were able to keep that for two fucking years?" he laughed, ruffling my hair after I nodded slowly, thoroughly confused as to why I wasn't dead yet. "I really appreciate it, Near. But why didn't you at least tell us?"

"I thought it would piss you off." Well, it was certainly a rational thought, wasn't it?

He scoffed, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "Near, not _everything _you do pisses me off. Just most of it. Are you okay with me and Matt being, y'know, together?"

"Of course." Why not? "Can I ask a question, though?"

"Um, sure."

"Why the hell did it take you two ten years to finally open your eyes to each other?" I asked slyly, the corners of my mouth twitching upwards as Mello just laughed and stood, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me up as well.

"Y'know, you're not that bad, kid," he confessed, tossing a goodbye and a smirk over his shoulder as he left, hands shoved in his pockets.

It was pretty apparent that Mello didn't completely hate me anymore, but he still didn't like me enough to call me his friend. I proudly call him mine, though. He's also a bit better at sharing Matt between the two of us, though he still hogs him sometimes.

Mello calls us "sometimes-enemies."

I call us "sometimes-friends."

Matt calls us "frenemies."

Over the years following our departure from Wammy's, we grew closer and eventually started a detective agency together, and to this day we still investigate crimes and bring criminals to justice. Since L's still going strong, none of us were chosen to be his successor, but instead chose to give up any chance of succeeding him to start our own agency.

I'm twenty-five now, just turned yesterday to be precise, and Mello and Matt are twenty-six. They're still together, and have graciously allowed me to live with them in their apartment while Gevanni and I pick out a place to live that's not too far from the two of them. I met Gevanni one night while out shopping for groceries, and we hit it off right away. We're thinking of getting married, but we haven't told his parents of our plans yet.

Even now, as I write this down for you all, I can't help but be thankful for that one awkward encounter so many years ago, when we were all nothing but a bunch of quirky teenagers aiming to ensure our spot as the heir to the greatest detective in the world.

Sometimes, from awkward situations spring forth shiny new opportunities.

—Nate River


	22. Typical day

It was a normal, typical day.

Of course, 'typical' in this context pretty much ensures that, were you to be having a 'typical' day, by the end of said typical day you'll have lost your job, been dumped by your boy-slash-girlfriend, and shit on by an assload of randomly flying pigeons. This is all assuming you had a job to begin with, were actually in a relationship, and aren't a recluse which, if you're sitting there reading this steaming pile of seven kinds of shit, you most likely _don't _have a job, _aren't_ in a relationship, and _are_ a recluse.

This is all speculation, though.

Because really, the narrator's just here for your amusement. Nothing more.

…maybe for the reviews. _Maybe_.

"So, Mello," Matt a.k.a. Mail Jeevas a.k.a. Mello's best friend a.k.a. who the fuck knows spoke up, un-pausing his game and playing again, hanging upside down off the zebra-print couch that has been dubbed Zeb. Because the narrator cannot figure out what, um, _version_ of Matt to go with, she's just going to assume that his hair and eye colors change for no fucking reason every once in a while. Although, the only way to really find out his natural hair color is to see whether or not the carpet matches the drapes.

The narrator is going to let you think about that one.

"Yes, Matt?" Mello replied, eating his tenth chocolate bar that hour. Personally, the narrator thinks that Mello's not setting much of a good example for children. Seriously. Are you trying to promote childhood obesity? ARE YOU, BITCH?

Woah. Ahem.

After ever-so-politely flipping the narrator off, the snarky transvestite/Mafioso/godonlyknowswhat motioned for the redhead/brunet to finish his fucking sentence. "Um, whadda ya wanna do? I'm kinda bored," Matt elaborated, pushing his dorky-as-fuck goggles up onto his forehead and sitting up correctly on the couch.

Waiting a few moments for the inevitable smartass comment from the narrator, Mello said, after not hearing a smartass comment, "I dunno. I'm fresh out of ideas. D'ya wanna go swimming, or something?"

"We don't have swim trunks."

Hey, skinny dipping never hurt anybody. By the way, the narrator wants to join in the hot, wet nakedness.

"I don't think so."

Fuck you, Mello. Fuck. You.

"We could go shopping," the striped gamer offered, looking absolutely fucking adorable.

Mello cringed. "No."

You could make out. Just sayin'.

"WHAT?" the blond erupted, a comically comical angry vein mark appearing on his forehead as he stomped around the room like a PMSing army of girls with jackhammers and two-ton boots. Yes, he's that awesome that he can be that loud. At least the narrator thinks so. "WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANNA MAKE OUT WITH MY FUCKING BEST FRIEND? ARE YOU DAFT, WOMAN? IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, WE'RE BOTH _GUYS_. THAT'S SOOOOO NOT RIGHT. SO, LIKE, FUCK YOU!"

In a small voice, Matt squeaked, "I-I'm okay with it."

Huzzah. One down, one to go.

"AND ANOTHER THING—wait, what?"

"I said I'm okay with it."

He looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"

Matt nodded. "Yup."

What happened next was something too hot for words.

Well, not all words, just most; basically, all words except these:

Hot

Sexy

Naked

Piece it together. For now, the narrator must bid you adieu, for she has some very nice video to go edit and possibly post on YouTube for the entire world to see. _Au revoir_!

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Just some "Mello/Matt with a narrator" silliness.


	23. Words

Mello had an interesting way of talking to people. Depending on the person, he was either straightforward and merciless or secretive and caring. What struck me as the strangest thing was that what he said was NEVER what he actually meant. Never.

It's common knowledge that Mello has less-than-friendly feelings for Near (far, _far_ less than friendly), but that didn't mean that he didn't pretend to be polite. Near, as smart as he was, could never pick up on what Mello really meant with his words, and it seemed like I was the only one. Mello always tried not to let his true emotions sneak into his speech pattern, but every once in a while he'd slip up. It was rare, though.

He always tried to not show too much distaste towards the sheep-like albino, but I always knew exactly what he meant.

'Mello,' he'd address him, standing there twirling his hair like he always does.

Mello would respond, 'Yes, Near?' and wait patiently for the younger to answer. In Mello-speak, 'yes, Near?' meant 'OH GOD, IT'S YOU.'

When he spoke to me, his true meanings were even more opposite than what he said. 'What the fuck do you want?' really meant 'I'm glad you chose me to talk to;' 'I'm busy, Mattie' really meant 'you can stay if you want.'

"Hey, Mels," I greeted him, closing the door behind me.

"I can't talk now, Matt." _I don't want to talk; I want to listen to you._

"I bought chocolate, just like you asked."

"It certainly took you long enough." _I'm glad you made it back safely._

"Do you want me to make dinner?"

"I don't care. Do what you want." _You do too much for me. Take a break every once in a while._

"I'm gonna sit down and watch the news."

"Psh, of course. Typical Matt. Useless lounge lizard." _I wish I could be as laid-back as you._

"I'm ordering pizza. What do you want?"

"Right now, I couldn't care less about food. I'm working." _Extra pepperoni and sausage._

"Mello, the pizza's here."

"Whoop-de-fucking-doo." _Will you eat with me?_

"It's pretty late; I think I'll head to bed."

"Be my guest. Just know that you're making up all the fucking work you missed today when you get up tomorrow." _Goodnight. Sleep well._

"I love you."

"Whatever." _I love you, too. More than you know._


	24. Five Things Mello Loves About Matt

_The prompt of the assignment I'm currently working on was to write about something meaningful to you and why it has such a special place in your heart, listing no more than five reasons/things. Naturally, I've chosen to write about my best friend and all the different reasons why I love his stupid little ass. The number of reasons is quite plentiful, but due to the outline of the assignment I'll have to limit it to just five._

_#1: His sense of humor_

Fuck, it was hot outside. Just standing out there, in my usual provocative leather, of course, I was sweating fucking buckets and looking like I'd just worked the hell out for three days straight. Not only that, but the burning metal of the car I was leaning on was really starting to singe my flawless skin. "Mels!" Matt called, jogging over to where I was with his goggles on his forehead and his long-sleeved shirt rolled up. "Hey, school's been over for a bit. Do you wanna leave?"

"Can't, Mattie," I sighed, readjusting my position to try and aim it so the car was touching my leather and NOT my back. "I'm watching Mace's car for him until he finishes retaking his math test. It's boring as fuck, though."

"You're watching his car."

I nodded. "Yeeep."

"Is it gonna do a trick?"

_#2: His ability to make me feel happy as all hell, despite the shittasticality of my day_

"FUCK!" I screamed into my pillow, not even noticing when Matt sauntered into my bedroom; hell, I couldn't recall him following me home as it was. "Fucking _hell_, my life fucking _sucks_, all because of motherfucking _Nate River _and his endless expanse of fucking _brains_. Ugh."

"Don't say that, Mels. You're shitloads smarter than that albino puffball," he reassured me, sitting on my bed and rubbing my back between my shoulders. I really, really, _really_ had to fight the urge to purr like a fucking cat at his soothing strokes, but gathered enough self-control to quell the need and bring my face up from my pillow.

I glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "You really think so?"

He scoffed, waving his unoccupied hand dismissively. "Shit, I _know _so. You're smarter about things people actually care about, like…girls. Yeah. You're smart about girls, and relationships, and all-around street-smart. That's what matters in the world."

Grinning, I rolled over and proclaimed, "I love you, man," while pulling him into a hug.

_#3: His adorable bluntness_

"M-Mello, I have something important to tell you," Matt said feebly, twisting his hands in his lap and scooting closer to me, maneuvering his way onto my couch cushion. "I just don't know how to say it."

Pausing in my chocolate bar violation, I snorted, "Um, with your mouth?" and was rewarded with a playful punch on the shoulder. "In all seriousness, just tell me."

"Okay…" he started, taking a deep breath before continuing with, "I'm gay. For you. I'm gay for you. I think you're sexy, funny, sweet, amazing, hot, perfect, and a whole shit-ton of other adjectives that escape me right now. I, um, know you don't feel the same way, but I really really really hope we can still be friends and stuff 'cause you're my favorite person in the whole wide world and it'd really suck to lose you as a friend 'cause I doubt there's another person out there who'd get along with as well as you do and I don't really feel like wasting my life trying to find another best friend."

I blinked slowly once. Twice. Three times. "…what?"

_#4: His aversion to nature and all things outdoorsy_

"NOOOOOOOO! YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" Grunting, I didn't relinquish my hold on his ankle, rather dragging Matt even more forcefully along the carpet and out the door. "Mello! You know I hate the outdoors!"

"Exactly," I smiled wickedly, tossing him onto my back after he decided to try and hang onto the grass, "which is why you and I are going to spend the _entire fucking day _together, _outside_, with _nature_."

"I fucking hate you, Mello!"

"No you don't!"

"…okay, fine. I don't. But still…!"

_#5: The way he blushes to his ears_

4:27.

4:28.

4:29.

4:30. "Mello, I'm here, on time, like you asked!" my favorite redhead panted, dropping down onto the park bench and gasping for breath as I just sat there and cocked an eyebrow at him. "What'd you want—hack—that's so—wheeze—damn important?"

"Oh, nothing major," I elaborated, scooting ever-so-sneakily closer to him. "I just had something I wanted to give you."

His eyes lit up, and I swear that if he was a dog his tail would've been wagging. "Really? Where is it?"

Chuckling, I leaned in and whispered, "Right here," against his lips before pressing my mouth fully against his in quite possibly the most passionate kiss I'd been involved in up until then. After he recovered from his initial shock, he slid his hands into my hair and tilted his head to the side, humming contentedly against my lips as I pressed further, cupping his face gently. When we broke apart, the first thing that happened was a furious blush spread across Matt's face, all the way up to his ears, turning them bright red. "Aw, you're all red, Mattie."

"Sh-Shut up!" he stammered, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting while I just laughed and moved back in.

_When you have a plethora of reasons why you love somebody, it's hard to narrow your choices down to just five. I could've gone on for much, much longer, but alas, the directions said I couldn't go above five. Therefore, I've listed the top five reasons why I love Matt, but I'm going to have to add the most important reason of all as something 'after the fact.'_

_So, #6: Because he's Matt._


	25. Mello's confession

Why the fuck is it so damn hard to tell someone you like them? Seriously, all I had to say was, "Matt, I think I like-like you," but I was too scared to even do that! Lame, lame, lame! I was fucking fourteen! Ugh! I paced back and forth in front of the door to the room Matt and I shared at Wammy's House, nibbling on my thumb and literally freaking out as I ran through different scenarios in my head.

_"Um, Matt?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I sorta…like you as more than a friend."_

_"…WHAT THE FUCK? GET OUT OF MY FACE, FAGGOT!"_

Yeah, I could just _imagine_ how much that impending roundhouse kick would hurt.

_"Um, Matt?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I sorta…like you as more than a friend."_

_"Oh my God! Awesome! I like you, too!"_

Who the fuck was I kidding? Matt wasn't gay. I think.

_"Um, Matt?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I sorta…like you as more than a friend."_

_"Sorry, can't talk now, boss fight."_

Yeah, that seemed the most probable. Maybe.

Shit.

Well, there was no use stalling any longer. I'd just have to go in there, tell Matt how I felt, and take whatever happened and just roll with it. Worst case scenario, he hates my guts and I lose him as a friend; best case scenario, he returns the feelings and we grow old together.

Psh. Like that'll happen.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I shouldered open the door and shuffled nervously inside, closing the previously 'broken' barrier behind me and walked over to where Matt was. Not caring as he swore like a trucker at me, I yanked the television cord out of the wall and sat in front of him, ignoring his seemingly never-ending string of curses. "Matt," I said quietly, mentally cheering at my ability to not stutter.

Immediately, he stopped yelling. "Yeah, Mels?"

"I, um, I…uh…I kinda…um…" SPIT IT THE FUCK OUT, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS. "I kinda…um…uh…" Shit, this was getting me nowhere fast. Dignity be damned, I blurted out, "Ilikeyouasmorethanafriend!" before clapping my hand over my mouth lightning-fast and turning eight shades of red.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, damn, fuck, bitch, oh God. Damn, damn, damn! I'm fucked! So, so fucked! Oh shit, he's not saying anything! He's just sitting there with his mouth open! This is not good!_

"I-Is that…true?" he finally asked, albeit it nearly inaudibly.

Gulping, I removed my hand from my mouth and shakily replied, "Y-Yeah, i-it's true."

He nodded, as if saying okay, and pulled me into a hug that made me squeak. Yes, the great and mighty Mello squeaked. Bite me. I almost missed it as he whispered into my ear, "I _really _wanna kiss you right now," but there was no way I could've missed how hot his face felt against my neck, which meant he was blushing too.

I pulled back, grabbing both his hands with mine and looking him straight in the eyes. "If you do that, there's no going back," I warned, partly because I wanted him to be only mine and partly because I didn't want him to ever leave me. I knew he'd had girlfriends in the past, and I knew he'd gotten his first kiss with one of them, but I wanted my first and last kisses to be with him.

"I know," he answered, moving in slowly and pulling his hands out of mine, instead lacing his fingers through my hair carefully. Before we actually made any lip-to-lip contact, he hesitated right before his lips met mine, murmuring, "I've never been with a boy before."

"Me either." That was enough to make him press all the way forward and kiss me, full-on.

Woah. Fireworks. Sparks. Calming fire. Somewhere, I swore angels were singing.

…boy, was it hot in there. But somehow, it was all too perfect for me to even care, and after a little coaxing from Matt I moved my lips against his, matching his rhythm to the T. All too soon, the need to breathe was too much to handle, making us break apart. I would've happily just sat there kissing him for the rest of my life if I could have.

"Um, wow," he panted intelligently, hands still tangled in my hair. Sometime during the kiss, my arms had migrated to being wrapped around his neck, but I made no move to change their position. After deciding we'd had enough time to breathe, I pulled myself into his lap before he could protest and smashed my lips against his.

The second kiss led to a third, which led to a fourth, which led to a fifth, which led to tongues (weirdest feeling ever, but still perfect), which led to more tongues, which _didn't _lead to sex.

C'mon, people; I may be madly in love, but I'm not easy.

Anyway, it did lead to some lightly traveling hands, but nothing sexual. Just a little side rub here and a stomach knead there. Nothing big.

And to think it all started with my shitty-ass confession.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Hooray for fluff! *throws confetti in air and dances like an idiot*

I'd really like to thank everyone who's reviewed! I love you all!

Thanks and virtual glomps to: FrenchKissOfMandM, Goddess-of-Shadows12, Swifty444, Diamone, Cookie Crusader, Martata, Kawaiikitty400, Darkfire359, empressfate, - romanisan, GogglesAndVideoGamesOhJoy, my darling wifey Chrissy Huntley/Flaming Fan Girlsnumbero dos, Me and My Shadow, Nefertani, Okita-C.-Ahnezton, efemanatepixie, Kaslo, ILuvYa44, little-unoriginal-monster, glitz0101, Meohy, CarefulSteps, Miss Bright, SabrinaScissorhands, She's An Actress, Eevee Tofu, Melanie Swirls, Romance with Zero, and laughing senseless.


	26. Shower

"Fuck, my goddamn eyes!" I heard Mello scream, causing me to drop my PSP and rush to the bathroom, bursting through the door and getting an eyeful of my naked best friend. Woah, Mattie. Calm down. You really don't need a boner right now.

"A-Are you okay?" I asked, stepping in and kneeling down to his level, completely forgetting the fact that I was, in fact, still wearing my clothes, which were slowly being soaked by the shower head and becoming kind of heavy.

He groped around the tiled shower floor blindly, replying, "Yeah, I just got shampoo in my eyes." Still feeling around, he added, "Matt, have you seen my washrag?"

I stood up and looked around, spotting the soaped-up washcloth on the other side of the shower. Brushing my dripping hair out of my (for once) un-goggled eyes, I snatched the rag and held it out to him; he shot his hand up quickly, totally missing the rag and halting any further movement as he continued feeling around. "Ngh."

"Um, Matt? Wh-What did I just grab?"

Drawing a shaky breath as he kept moving his hand around, I stuttered almost incoherently, "M-My c-c-crotch…"

"Oh shit!" he swore, scrambling away from me and grabbing a towel on his way out of the shower, leaving me to shut it off and dry myself off. After I peeled off my soaking wet clothes, rubbed myself down with a towel, and dubbed myself successfully semi-dry, I hesitantly opened the bathroom door and inched into the room, slipping on a dry pair of boxers before sitting next to Mello on my bed with my hands in my lap. "I'm sorry about before."

"'S okay," I mumbled, pointedly looking away from him but letting out a squeak when he pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tightly and burying his face in my shoulder. "Um, M-Mels?"

"Shut up," he chastised lightly, hugging me tighter, "and just let me fucking hug you."

Not one to go against orders, I allowed him to keep hugging me, nuzzling my face into the scar on his left cheek and just breathing in his scent. When he pulled back to look at me, I obediently sat there and stared at him. The next thing I knew, he pushed his lips against mine, startling me and making me jerk backward. "Mello?" Damn, I was confused as hell.

"Shut up," he repeated quietly, leaning in again, "and just let me fucking kiss you."


	27. Texting and detention

To: Mels

From: Mattie

You suck. You fucking suck. So much.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Is that a request or an order? ;)**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

You fucking pervert, your little antics landed my sorry ass in detention. I hope you're happy.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**What antics? I didn't do anything.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Bullshit. I know you glued the tacks to Mr. Franklin's chair, don't lie.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Duh, yeah. But there's no reason for you to get in trouble for it.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Oh, really? Is that why you stashed the box of tacks and the glue in my fucking backpack?

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Shit, don't tell me he did a backpack check.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

No, he didn't. It just so happens that I'm a fucking klutz that can't walk on his own two feet without tripping and falling at least three times a day. My backpack was open, and the tacks, glue, and all my games fell out.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Oh fuck.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Damn right, 'oh fuck.' After all that incriminating evidence, there was no way in hell I could plead my innocence and have him believe it. So now, I'm in detention. Without my games.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Dude, I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to get in trouble; actually, nobody was. Anyway, you know I have a penchant for acting without thinking.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

No excuses, asshat. At least Franklin was nice enough to allow me use of my phone. That way, I can bitch about you, to you. Ha, ha, fucking ha.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

…**you're mad, aren't you?**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Me? Mad? Of course not. I'm totally fucking PSYCHED that I get to spend two hours in a detention I didn't even earn. WHOOP-DE-FUCKING-DOO. I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY.

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Your sarcasm hurts me, Mattress. Look, I'm sorry, alright? Just please, don't hate me. You're my best friend and I wouldn't know what to do without you.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Fluffiness gets you nowhere fast, Melodramatic. You'll be lucky if I forgive you. And, honestly, what the hell kind of a 17-year-old puts fucking tacks on the teacher's chair?

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

**Um, me? And I wasn't being fluffy, I was telling the truth.**

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Oh, so you can tell the truth about your feelings, but you can't come clean to a teacher when your BEST FUCKING FRIEND was put in detention for something YOU did?

**

* * *

To: Mattie**

**From: Mels**

…

* * *

To: Mels

From: Mattie

Your silence is VERY reassuring. Fucking prick. Gotta go, Franklin's coming back in.

* * *

Matt looked up from his phone, promptly dropping it after seeing who had walked through the doorway behind the history teacher. A head of blond hair, dressed head to toe in black, and a chocolate bar in one hand clearly said 'Mello,' and the redhead couldn't do much else other than sit there and stare open-mouthed. "M-Mello?"

"Matt," Mr. Franklin began, sitting down at the teacher's desk in the front of the room and leaning back in his chair, "you are free to go. Mello here has informed me that your being here was, in fact, a fluke and you were not the one who glued tacks to my seat. As for you, Mello," he turned to the blond, "you may also leave."

Mello looked beyond confused. "Wait, what? I just told you that I was the one who did it! Why are you letting me go?"

"Because by turning yourself in, you showed that you cared more about your friend than any impending punishments. You've proven that you are a truthful, chivalrous young man, and you're being rewarded by not having to serve detention. The only thing I ask is that you don't do it again."

He nodded, grabbing Matt by the hand and leading him out of the classroom to the back parking lot, where the gamer's cherry-red Camaro was parked all by its lonesome. Before he could step inside the car, Matt stopped him and pulled him back toward him, still holding onto his hand. "Um, Mello?" he started shakily, his cheeks pinking a bit.

"Yeah?" the blond replied, tilting his head to the side a fraction and blinking at his friend.

Quickly, Matt leaned in and kissed Mello on the cheek, lingering for a few seconds before finally pulling away to look at him and smile sheepishly. "Thanks."

In awe, Mello reached a hand up to lightly rest on the cheek that Matt had just pressed his lips to, still feeling a small tingle in the skin. "Y-You're welcome."


	28. Friends vs best friends 2

**FRIENDS: **give you ideas.

**BEST FRIENDS:** make you go through with them, no matter how crazy.

Mello paced back and forth across the room, nibbling on a chocolate bar while running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I am so bored," he sighed, flopping down onto the couch and resting his head against the backrest. "Mace, what should we do?"

The shorter blond shrugged, picking at his fingernails. "Dunno. Why don't we go outside and play football?"

"I say we go blow up a Toys Я Us," Matt offered, finally looking up from his game. As Mello started to protest, Matt grabbed him by the hand and dragged him outside to the car, saying, "Hell no, dude. You're not backing out."

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **will help you sneak backstage to meet your favorite band.

**BEST FRIENDS:** will kidnap 'em and bring them to you.

"So if we leave at that exact time and sneak off to the side, we should be able to slip through the backstage door and lie in wait for them to finish," Mace elaborated, drawing imaginary lines on the event center map spread out on the table. "With any luck, it'll work flawlessly. However, there's still about a fifteen percent margin of error."

Matt came bursting through the door happily, scooping Mello up into a hug and shouting, "Happy birthday, bro! I got you the best present ever!" He covered his friend's eyes, leading him outside before removing his hand. "Ta-da!"

Mello's mouth just about hit the ground. "You brought me _Nickelback_?"

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **help you up when you fall.

**BEST FRIENDS: **laugh and trip you again.

"Oh shit, Mello! Sorry!" Mace apologized, helping the fallen blond to his feet and checking for any injuries.

"'S okay," he replied, brushing himself off. "It was an accident. No harm done." He kept walking, only to fall flat on his face once again just a few seconds later, looking up to find a giggling redhead. "Ass." Pulling himself back up, he started moving again, but was tripped by Matt not long after. "Damn you, Matt!"

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **will return your wallet intact.

**BEST FRIENDS: **will pocket the money and play innocent when you ask for it back.

"Mace, have you seen my wallet?" Mello asked, crawling around on his hands and knees to check underneath the couches. "I can't find it anywhere."

Holding out the aforementioned wallet, Mace responded, "Yeah, it's right here. I found it yesterday but couldn't find you anywhere, so I just held onto it."

He thanked him, shoving it back into his pocket and continuing to go about his day. A couple days later, his wallet went missing again. "Fuck, where the hell is it?"

"You mean this?" Matt piped up, waving the wallet around in the air before handing it back. Mello grabbed his wallet back and checked inside, finding nothing but empty space.

Not amused in the slightest, he demanded, "Where is my money?"

"What money?"

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **will discreetly try to set you up with a date.

**BEST FRIENDS: **will stand on the lunch table and announce that you need a date just to embarrass the piss out of you.

"Wow, I can't believe prom is just around the corner," Matt mused, mashing the buttons on his PSP and expertly taking another bite of his sandwich. "Do you guys have dates already?"

Mace nodded, scratching at his cheek bandage and muttering, "I'm going with Ellie."

Matt grinned. "Epic choice, mah man. I'm goin' with Linda. Hey, Mels? Who are you going with?"

"Ah, I don't have a date," he confessed, poking at his salad disdainfully.

"I know a couple girls that might be interested in going with you," the bandaged blond smiled, slinking off to go ask if anyone wanted to go with Mello.

Smirking wickedly, the redhead hoisted himself on top of the table and announced, "May I have your attention, please. My friend here needs a date for prom. Any takers?" despite Mello's furiously scarlet blush and string of expletives.

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **know when it's time to leave.

**BEST FRIENDS: **stay by your side until you make them leave.

"Well, it's getting pretty late, so I should get back to my own room," Mace said, bidding his two friends goodbye before heading down the hallway to his room. Once the other blond had left, Mello dropped down onto his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes.

Taking advantage of the situation, Matt snuggled up next to him, burying his face in the crook of the boy's neck and inhaling his ever-present chocolaty scent. There he stayed, until Mello quite literally kicked him off the bed, ordering him to go lie on his own. Stealing a quick kiss on the cheek to make his friend turn red, he chirped, "'Kay!" and strutted over to sleep on his own bed.

"Fuckin' idiot," Mello mumbled, rubbing his cheek vigorously as he blushed darker.

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **comfort you when someone hurts you.

**BEST FRIENDS: **are ready to prank the shit out of that son of a bitch.

"Fucking NEAR!" Mello swore, clenching his fists tightly and gritting his teeth, punching relentlessly at his pillow as Mace watched on, scared to get too close. "All I want to do is be the fucking best, and because of him, I can't even do that! Argh!"

He fell face first onto his bed, and Mace figured it was as good a time as any to move closer and try to comfort the temperamental blond. "Dude, it's okay. You're loads smarter than him, anyway. Rankings and shit don't really matter in the real world. 'Sides, Near's a freak."

The ringing of Mello's cell phone made him lose his train of thought, and the chocolate lover shot out a hand blindly to grope around for it. "Hello?"

_"Mels?"_

"Who else, fucktard?"

_"Just had to make sure. So, I heard the rankings were posted today."_

"Yeeep."

_"Sweet. I've got the tar and feathers ready as we speak."_

"…what?"

**

* * *

FRIENDS:** will take a hit for you.

**BEST FRIENDS: **will take a fucking beating for you.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" Mello ordered, squirming in the bigger teen's grasp and trying to wrench his way out of it. "I mean it! Let _go_!"

"Oi!" Mace interjected, rushing over to where the three older boys were ganging up on the blond. "You heard him, now let him go!" He did just that, but chose to deck Mello's "savior" across the jaw instead, making him spit out blood.

Matt, having been leaving at that exact moment, saw what was going on and wasted no time in sprinting over, grabbing the beefy kid by the collar, and punching him straight in the nose. Not standing for that, he fought back, leading the two teens to keep going at it until a teacher came and pried the bully off of Matt. By then, he was sporting a broken nose, two black eyes, a bruised gut, and a massive headache.

"God, Matt! What the hell did you do that for? You could've been seriously injured!" Mello cried into his chest, sniffling as the redhead ran his fingers through blond strands.

"It was worth it," he admitted, "because I was protecting you."

**

* * *

FRIENDS: **waver from one week to the next.

**BEST FRIENDS: **are always consistent.

Matt didn't miss Mello's un-cheery demeanor as he slumped down into his seat at the lunch table, dropping his lunch unceremoniously onto the tabletop. "What's up, Mels?"

"Mace," he replied, "Mace is up. He's all pissed at me for some reason and he won't talk to me long enough to tell me why. I think he hates me."

Taking a bite of his cookie, Matt reassured him with, "If that's the case, you don't have to worry. I'm still here, and you know that nothing you could do could ever make me hate you. Life is grand, isn't it? I'm sure Mace'll be okay next week; you know how his moods go."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mello shrugged, snatching the rest of Matt's cookie and shoving it in his mouth.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **I like these little drabbles. They're fun. :D

On another note, what do you guys think of Mace? Is he "Gary-Stu"ish at all? Or is he a pretty good character?


	29. Mello's bad hair day

"Mello, I'm bored," Matt complained, moving from his seat on the floor to straddle me on the bed and pull my book out of my hands. "Wanna make out?"

I snorted. "Wanna go buy me stuff?"

Pouting, he answered, "Only if you make out with me."

"Only if you go buy me stuff," I shot back, pushing his face away as he tried to lean in and kiss me anyway. He kept that up until I bucked my hips and threw him off me, sending him sprawling onto the floor and landing on his back. Sitting up, I leaned over the edge of the bed to find him still lying there and glaring at me with mock annoyance. "You can't win, Mattie. Face it."

"I can try." He stuck his tongue out at me, quickly scrambling up to attempt to forcefully kiss me, but I grabbed his lips with my left hand and brushed my hair out of my face with my right. "Merro, could joo prease ret go o' my rips?"

Letting go of his mouth, I warned him not to try and kiss me again without my permission. I pulled at the ends of my hair, groaning at the length and saying, "Matt, I need a haircut. Get the scissors."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's a Great Clips right behind our house, Mels; go have a professional do it," he insisted, plopping down onto our bed next to me and examining my hair. "You know I'll just fuck something up or some shit like that and then you'll get mad and make me sleep on the couch and you know how bad I get when I can't sleep with you."

Sighing, I replied, "Be that as it may, I still trust you, and I really don't wanna have to go to the bank and get money because I don't have the fourteen dollars I need to get a haircut at Great Clips. Besides, it may be a five minute walk, but it's fucking ten degrees out there and I don't own a fucking winter coat." He started to open his mouth, but I cut him off and said, "No, I am not going to borrow any of your long-sleeved shirts or vests. Suck it up."

"Fine," he eventually gave in, "go sit on the toilet and I'll be right in." Doing as I was told, I strutted off to the bathroom, sitting backwards on the seat and leaning into the mirror, observing my face as I waited for Matt to get back with the scissors and the spray bottle. "Mello, I'm back. How do you want it cut?"

Figuring it was about damn time I tried something new, I decided, "Something short-ish, but not too short." Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had short hair, and thought it'd be nice to have a welcome change; although, there was a nagging in the back of my mind that was telling me not to have Matt cut it short. I brushed it off, though.

"Alright," he said, spraying my hair and combing through it, rubbing my scalp sensually as he pulled gently at the knots near the ends. Closing my eyes, I pulled my music player out of my pocket and turned it on, rocking out to Pink Floyd as my boyfriend worked my hair. In no time at all, I felt him towel drying it, and opened my eyes to find the towel still draped on my head. "You ready?"

I nodded, and he took the towel off, the sight of my now-shorter hair not being what I expected. It looked like my hair had decided to sweep to one side and spring up relentlessly, even after I tried forcing it down with my hand. "Matt, this is not good."

"I dunno," he mused, "you look kinda like…"

"I know. That's the problem."

Wrapping his arms around my neck from behind and pecking me on the cheek, he reassured me that, "It doesn't look bad, but if you want my help in trying to fix it I'll give it."

"Yes please." Not needing to be told twice, he grabbed a container of mousse from underneath the sink and worked it into my hair, but my stubborn strands chose to pop back up again. As he continued trying to use different styling products to get my damn hair to stay down, I remembered exactly why I kept my hair long: it had a tendency to stick up when it was too short.

"Mello, babe, this isn't working," he whined, giving up on trying to flatten my springy locks. "Can't you just wear a hat?"

Raising an eyebrow at him, I asked, "Matt, can you _really _see me wearing a hat?"

"…no. Good point. How 'bout a hood?"

I gestured to the left half of my face. "With this scar _and_ a hood, I'd look like an ex-con."

"But you are an—I'll shut up now."

Standing up, I slinked back to our room and threw open the closet, peering into the very back, very dark recesses of the damn thing and practically shuddering as my only option hung non-threateningly-but-still-threateningly from a hanger. "Matt."

"Yes?" he responded, grabbing me around the waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"There's only one thing to do now," I deadpanned, reaching into the abyss and pulling out the offending outfit before slipping out of my leather one to swap it for my only hope. Pulling on the gloves as the finishing touch, I tossed Matt the camera on one of the nightstands and, after seeing the confused expression etched onto his face, explained, "Cosplay photos."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Any ideas as to whom Mello's "cosplaying?"


	30. Novocain kisses

Matt walked into the room he and his best friend-slash-boyfriend shared at Wammy's House, stifling a giggle as he spotted the best friend-slash-boyfriend in question, a rather moody-looking blond, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his tongue hanging uselessly out of his mouth. Unfortunately for the gamer, he sucked ass at hiding laughs, and Mello glared daggers at him as he laughed his way into the room and sat on his own bed, facing the other.

"Thith ith not funny, you ath," Mello grit out, folding his arms over his chest and thinking of the many wonderful ways he could possibly waste Matt for being a bastard. "It fucking thuckth. Thtop laughing, bathtard."

Ignoring the bitchy demand, Matt gasped out, "Dude, I told you not to piss Beyond off. You didn't listen, and so you paid the price. You can't say I didn't warn you, because I did," before starting another round of giggles.

"Prithe? The _prithe_?" he screeched, lunging across the gap between their beds and effectively landing in the hacker's lap, both hands fisted in Matt's collar and shaking him mercilessly. "I ended up with a thot of fucking _Novocain_ in my tongue! I theriouthly thwear I will fucking _murder_ that thtupid thon of a bitch if it'th the lath thing I do!"

The redhead said nothing, continuing to laugh at his friend's expense until he couldn't breathe, panting and trying to catch his breath while still managing to chuckle a few last times. "Oh, man. You sound so fucking retarded, Mels. It shouldn't last much longer, so relax. Wait… I lied. Beyond hates you. He probably upped the dose needed to numb you for an hour or so."

"I fucking hate you tho much, Mail Jeevath!" He buried his face in Matt's chest, banging on his shoulder weakly with a half-assed fist. "You thuck, you thuck, you thuck, you thuck, you thuck, you fucking THUCK! I juth want to thay an 'eth' without it thounding like 'eth!' Thith thuckth!"

"Oh, come on. At least you look cute," Matt said, patting Mello's back in hopes that he might calm down. "I think you're positively adorable with that little lisp of yours. So is it really that bad?"

Mello pulled back and wrapped his arms around Matt's neck, playing with the wondrously red hairs at the nape. "Yeth, it ith. No juth thut up and kith me, you dumbath."

Apparently, Matt didn't get the memo. "What?"

"Kith me."

"Once again, what?"

Groaning, Mello mumbled, "Oh, Jethuth Chritht," and pressed his lips to Matt's, clumsily trying to work his numb tongue with the other's quite talented muscle, growing frustrated at his own inability and breaking the kiss. "Neh, I can't even kith you."

"Sure you can," Matt said cheerily, hooking his arms around the blond's back and leaning in a fraction, just enough to make their lips brush with every word. "It just means no tongue."

Pouting, Mello whined in the back of his throat but moved in anyway.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Theriously, Matt. It'th not funny. :P


	31. Look at this photograph

"Mels, dinner's done," Matt called from the kitchen, turning off the stove and setting out two plates as Mello walked in. Motioning to the chicken and rice, he smiled softly and said, "It's not turkey and potatoes, but at least it's something."

Mello did nothing but nod in appreciation, grabbing a plate and piling it with food before heading back to the couch to watch the football game. After getting food for himself, the redhead joined his friend on the couch and they ate in silence, the only sounds being the clinking of silverware and the football game broadcasting on the TV.

When they were done, and Matt was taking Mello's plate to the sink, Mello murmured, "Thanks," and pointedly looked away from the gamer. Matt returned with a scrapbook and sat thigh-to-thigh with the blond. "What's that for?"

"It's Thanksgiving," the hacker explained, "and I thought we should take some time to reminisce a little bit." He opened it to the first page, which bore childhood photos of the two of them; muddied up, covered in bandages, Matt snuggled on top of Mello while both slept, but every picture had them together. "Heh, look how cute you used to be."

Laughing quietly, Mello tried to ignore the other boy's proximity and replied, "Yeah, you too. What happened?"

Shrugging, Matt answered, "Puberty," and with a smirk added, "What's your excuse?"

"I blew up a build—I see what you did there."

The redhead chuckled, brushing invisible dust off the picture of him sleeping on top of Mello and hesitantly wrapping his arm around the blond. "That one's my favorite."

The ex-Mafioso turned to face his best friend, a half-smile gracing his lips. "Mine too."

Neither knew who it was that made the first move, but after a moment the two found themselves joined at the mouth, Matt's eyes fluttering closed as his hands shakily reached up to tangle in blond hair and Mello's slid down to rest on his partner's lower back. The blond moved back a fraction and placed one last kiss on Matt's lips before they pulled away from each other, blue eyes meeting wide green, both of them still holding the other.

"H-Happy Thanksgiving, Mello," Matt stuttered, smiling brightly despite the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

Returning the smile, Mello pulled Matt into a tight hug, whispering, "Happy Thanksgiving, Matt," into his ear and squeezing him tighter.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **So, my daddy told me I couldn't be on the computer all day.

LOL GUISE, HE'S IN BED NAO. :D


	32. Afterlife Confessions: Matt

Um, is this thing on? Hello? …it is? Okay then. So, uh, why am I here again? It doesn't seem to me like it has much point. Research? What the hell could you be researching? And for the love of God, can I _please _just smoke a fucking cigarette? C'mon! I need it! Ugh, _yes_, I realize I'm addicted. Honestly.

Gah.

Fine. I'll do your little thing.

Greetings one and all, I am Mail Jeevas, alias Matt, third in line to be the successor of the world's greatest detective, also known as L. Why I'm here right now, confessing my life's story to some people I've never met before as well as a camera, I haven't the slightest idea, but it's sorta irksome. Mainly for the fact that it's looking like a bit of a waste of time, and also because I'd much rather be at home having sex right now.

Ha. Shame. I don't has it.

As your average young adult male, I do quite enjoy engaging in sexual activities every now and then; not only that, but with a sex god living with you sex happens pretty often. I don't object, though. Who am I to deny Mello? Dude has a gun. Yeah, definitely **not **gonna piss him off.

Alright, quit yelling, you impatient sons of bitches. I'll get back on topic. Tight asses.

I grew up at Wammy's House, a nifty little place somewhere in England that trained us genius little bitties to become the next L. To be honest, I never really gave a fuck. Still don't, actually. Anyway, when I was at the ripe age of five a new kid was shipped in, named Mello, and in only ten minutes of being there he'd secured his spot as the hellion of the orphanage. He was mean, unfeeling, a complete bastard, and had a bit of a mouth on him.

Needless to say, Roger tossed him to me and said, "Guess what, Matt? Meet your new roommate. Don't kill each other."

Well, we didn't kill each other. No, we just constantly stayed at each other's throats and threatened to kill each other on an hourly basis. As we got to know each other, our relationship changed a bit. I wasn't his 'enemy' any longer; no, I became his dog, his faithful puppy.

_And I fucking loved every moment of it._

When he was cold, I was the one who was there to willingly give up my own coat.

When he was mad, I was the one who gave up my well-being to let him expel his anger.

When he went batshit insane on someone and kicked their ass, I was the one that wiped the blood off his knuckles.

Oh, and the best one was when he was struggling through his preteen years. Oh, God, yes. I was the one who willingly snogged him (and shamelessly enjoyed it), on multiple occasions, until he was absolutely sure that he was gay.

I was also the one who took his virginity when we were fourteen.

I regret nothing.

To this day I'm still not sure how exactly we'd ended up tangled in my sheets, but hell, we did, and we both loved it. Y'know what? I think it's starting to come back to me now. It was a… Monday, and the rankings had just been posted. Recently, Mels had been getting emotional every time Near beat him at something, but instead of lashing out in anger he'd been holing himself up in our room and crying his eyes out.

When I came into the room that evening, I found him curled up in the fetal position and bawling like some damn baby, and something possessed me and made me walk over to him, force him into a normal sitting position, and kiss his breath away. For some reason, he threw his arms around my neck and desperately kissed me back, tangling his hands in my hair and pulling. Hard.

God, him and the fucking hair pulling. He pulled my hair when we first met, he pulled my hair when we were getting to know each other, he pulled my hair when we became friends, he pulled my hair the first time he kissed me, and he pulls my hair when we make love. Is it some kind of hair pulling fetish or some shit like that? Seriously.

Eh, back on topic here, Matso. 'Kay. So. Hair pulling. Um… oh, yeah. Ze loss of ze virginity. So, he threaded his fingers through my hair, pulled it _really fucking hard_, and pretty much pried my mouth open before totally and utterly raping it. Oh, Jesus, that fucking tongue… ngh, sorry about that. Uh, during our little make out session he fell back onto the bed, pulling me down on top of him and basically asking with his eyes.

In case you were wondering, yes, I topped. Didn't expect that, didja?

And sweet Mary, mother of God, Mello was, and still is, amazing beyond belief. Looking at a guy like him, you'd either think that he was a total slut or a gender confused freak, but you probably couldn't guess how good he is in the sack.

We're talkin' **damn** _goooooooooooooooood._

Seriously. That man can make me come all over myself without laying a hand on me. He's just that perfect. And boy, do I love him.

Sadly, the day after we lost our innocence together news spread that L died. That night, Mello left Wammy's and never came back. I think he wanted me to forget him and move on with my life, but he must've been pretty damn stupid to think I could ever just get over him. I left the next morning with nothing but a duffel bag full of clothes, my trusty goggles, my DS, and an unbreakable resolve to find the boy I called my best friend.

Eventually I found him, and he was much displeased. Luckily for me, though, he let me move into his shitty-ass apartment with him and help him on the Kira case. And once again my life was complete, and I was his dog again.

I was the one that went out in the dead of winter and got him his damn chocolate.

I was the one that carried him to bed when he passed out after staying up too late and working.

I was the one that pulled his dumb ass out of the building he fucking blew up.

And I was the one that loved him even when his face got blown half to hell.

It took him a while to get over the fact that he had a nasty burn scar covering half his face, but I honestly couldn't blame him. All his life he'd kept his angelic looks his prized possession, an angel's face with a devil's smirk, and he couldn't quite handle not having his looks anymore, no matter how many times I told him he was still beautiful. He's okay with it now, especially because I tell him he looks damn sexy with it.

Well, he looks sexy either way. So there.

My phone says it's January 27th, 2010. Would you mind telling me what I'm doing here again, and this time tell me the whole truth? …WHAT? That's not possible! No, no, no! We… Mels and I made it through alive! We didn't die! There's… no way that what you're saying is true!

…oh my God. You're… you're right. We are dead. So what is this, some sort of test to see where we go or something? It is? Please, I don't care where I go, but you have to make sure that Mello ends up in heaven. Mihael Keehl has to go to heaven. He deserves it. At least… can you let me stay with him until his evaluation is over? Please? I-I need to be with him. He's sitting outside this room right now? Can I stay with him while he does his little interview? Please? I have to be with him, I just can't leave him alone.

O-Okay, I'll go get him. And thanks for everything.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Part one of two. Mello's is up next.


	33. Afterlife Confessions: Mello

What does it take to get some fucking chocolate around here? Jesus Christ on a stick, just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can be stripped of one of the necessities of life. Wait, what do you mean, 'I know?' Know that I'm dead? C'mon, I wasn't second at Wammy's for nothing. Give me some credit, mofos.

I am the old world's runner up, the best dresser that died like a dog, Mihael Keehl. Please, call me Mello, if you will. I know I've probably done some really bad shit in my life, but I'm supposed to tell everything here, so be prepared. Based on my knowledge of the shit I've done while I was alive, my best guess is that I'm most likely gonna set out on the highway to hell after this.

But hell, I'll humor you.

December 13, 1989, Igor and Elisa Keehl found themselves with a new baby, and that wasn't the best thing, considering Igor was the head of the Russian Mafiya. But he loved his wife and new son very much, and aimed to keep them a secret as he had his wife for several years. Unfortunately, someone found out and murdered poor Igor and Elisa, leaving a now five-year-old Mihael an orphan.

After taking some aptitude tests, I was contacted (or rather, my previous orphanage was contacted), by a Mr. Quillish Wammy that claimed to have a spot in a special orphanage, just for me. Obviously, having nowhere else to go, the caretakers decided that heading to Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children was the best bet for me.

Quillish came the next day to take me to England.

Wammy's was a damn nice place, and the orphans there were cool too, for the most part. The only problem was, upon first arrival, everybody thought I was a fucking _girl_. Yeah, ten minutes of that shit and I'd kicked enough asses to make a name for myself. Then Roger, the old coot-slash-caretaker of the orphanage, tossed me into the same room as some redheaded kid and told us not to kill each other.

He was cute—dammit Matt, let go of my hand—and all, but he looked really weird. I asked him if his hair color was natural. He said yes. I didn't believe him, so I pulled it. Hard.

For a grand total of two weeks we didn't say more than two words to each other unless we were insulting the other. After that, we slowly became what you might call 'friends.' In reality, he was my entire fucking world. I couldn't live without him, and he gladly took his place as my 'dog.'

That's not to say I didn't appreciate what he did.

He helped me with just about everything: schemes, fights, studying, and teenaged confusion. In fact, at the supple age of twelve, he was the one I had my first kiss with (as well as second, third, fifth, one hundredth, and so on and so forth), because I wanted to know if my desire to touch the boys (but really only Matt, for some reason) made me gay.

I'll never forget that day. We were sitting on his bed in our shared room, him playing some damn game and me just reading a book, when I realized I needed to find out soon and hey, what better person to find out with than a close friend, right? Ignoring his protests, I grabbed his game-thingy, chucked it across the room and onto my bed, plopped my tight little ass down in his lap, and smashed my lips against his.

When we were fourteen, I gave him my second-most prized possession (after my looks, of course): my virginity. One Monday evening, after the rankings had been posted and Near had been congratulated by fucking everybody at dinner, I shelled myself away in our room, crying my eyes out like it was going out of style. I don't know what made him do it, but Matt—for fuck's sake, Mattie, let go of my hand. I'm losing feeling in my arm—came over, unwrapped my arms from around my knees, and kissed me.

Not even bothering to think, I desperately threw my arms around his neck and pressed back, grabbing his hair and pulling it pretty damn hard. What happened next is damn easy to figure out, and I really don't feel like going into detail.

Regrettably, I left the next night after finding out that L, my mentor, was dead. I didn't want Matt to find me; that's why I left him behind. I knew that working the Kira was going to get me killed, and the last thing I wanted was for Matt to die because of me. As I'm fucking sure you can see, my plan didn't work, and we both ended up dead.

All throughout my life, I'd never really told Matt how much I appreciated what he did for me. Most of the time, I just yelled and screamed and bitched at him, and I really wish I could've been the bigger person and thanked him for putting up with my shit.

When he followed me from Wammy's, I yelled at him and called him an idiot.

When he pulled me out of the old Mafia hideout I'd blown up and nursed me back to health, I bitched at him for bugging me when I specifically told him not to.

When he told me I was still beautiful even after blowing myself up, I glared murderously at him and called him a liar.

He always told me I was an angel. I never believed him.

Angels are pure, perfect, and inhumanly beautiful. I'm a fucking mobster; my life has been riddled with costly, and really fucking stupid, mistakes; and half my face got toasted in an explosion I caused. That hardly qualifies as angelic, no matter what Matt says.

I'm not a good man. I've committed murder, been an accomplice to a murder multiple times, purchased and sold drugs, possessed and used illegal explosives, kidnapped or ordered kidnappings more than once, and even ordered the hijacking of a plane, among other things. With any luck, I'll stay in the first level of hell, but knowing my track record I'll probably make it all the way to the final level. Just make sure that Matt here makes it to heaven.

And fuck, Matt. I asked you twice to let go of your death grip on my fucking hand. Honestly. I'm losing feeling in my arm, and I'd really like to still be able to use it.

While I may have indulged a little too much in the criminal ways of life, I think I still did some good in the world. My death helped eliminate the most dangerous killer the world has ever known, even though I had to break a few laws to do so. It may not seem like much, but imagine having a hell of a lot more people to interview had Light Yagami never died.

Alright. I think I'm ready to go now. Just let me say my last apologies.

L, I'm sorry we didn't catch that son of a bitch Yagami sooner.

Soichiro Yagami, I'm sorry I killed you. I never meant to.

Near, I'm sorry I was such an ass to you all this time.

Mom and dad, I'm sorry I didn't turn out the way you would have wanted me to.

God, I'm sorry I strayed from your way.

And Matt, I'm sorry I got you killed. I love you more than anything else, even though I've never been able to say just how much I really do love you.

I… think that's it.

Father, forgive me.

* * *

"I guess this is goodbye, Matt," the blond said softly, letting a tear slip from his eye before pulling the equally sad redhead into a tight hug and burying his face in his lover's shoulder. As much as neither of them wanted to acknowledge it, it was time for them to go where they were to spend the rest of eternity. Mello pulled back and held Matt's face in his hands, wiping a stray tear from the gamer's cheek and kissing him softly.

The younger boy whispered, "I love you, Mello," against the other's mouth and pressed back fully, tossing his arms around Mello's neck and keeping the kiss slow and passionate, both trying to prolong their last moment together. When they broke apart and opened their eyes, they found themselves outside an open, golden gate. "Mello, what…?"

"I don't know," Mello replied, holding Matt close and looking around. "Wh-Where are we?"

_You are in heaven, dear child._

"Why? Why am I here, after all the things I've done?"

_Because this is where you deserve to be._

"No! It's not right! Not after the things I've done!"

_While you may have taken a course of action that may not have been the most righteous, you were never selfish and always put others ahead of you._

"That's… that's wrong. You're… wrong…"

_Wrong I am not. Though you vowed to avenge L and finally beat Near, your true want was to prevent Kira from killing again. It was never about beating Near. It was about the safety of others. You chose to let Matt take the car on January 26__th__, because you wanted him to be safer in case he was shot at while en route to the rendezvous point._

"But…"

"Mello, don't fight it," Matt said quietly, taking Mello by the hand and leading him through the gate to the rest of eternity. "This is where you should be. Besides, I knew you were an angel from the moment I met you. Now you're back where you belong."

_Peace be unto you forevermore, Mihael Keehl and Mail Jeevas._

When the two friends stepped over the threshold hand-in-hand, Mello and Matt became Mihael and Mail, no longer fighters but instead the carefree, footloose teenagers they used to be, before Kira and the case and the kidnapping. They were finally free from everything. There was no one left to hurt them anymore, no one left to threaten their lives. It was over and done with.

They made it.

And as Mihael looked over at Mail's shining, smiling face, he confirmed his thought all along that it wasn't him, but Mail, who was the true angel.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Part two of two. Oh, Jesus, this thing was fluffy. O_O

Next time we'll get back to the humor, promise!


	34. This princess is not peachy

Oh God, ye olde Quest of Map, don't fail me now. I scanned the tanned hide with my directions painted on it, every so often looking up to point my poor tiring horse in the right direction. Just another left and I'd be there to rescue dear Rapunzel from her prison of a tower. Pulling quickly on the reigns to stop my horse before dismounting, I folded up my map and slid it into one of the saddlebags conveniently placed on either side of the horse. Clearing my throat rather loudly, I stood at the base of the tower and called, "Rapunzel, Rapunz—"

"There's a ladder on the side, idiot," an angelic voice interrupted, and sure enough there was. Blushing slightly before re-gathering my composure, I climbed up the rope ladder to the small window and climbed in, falling flat on my face. "Smooth one, Romeo."

Scrambling up and brushing myself off, I bowed courteously and introduced myself. "Greetings, princess. I am Prince Matt, and I'm here to rescue you."

"That's absolutely lovely, darling, but there's just a small problem with that." She stepped out of the shadows, and I got a good look at… him. "One, I'm a dude. Two, there is no way in hell I'm climbing down with you. I'll get rope burns. You're carrying me, cutie. Oh, and the name's Prince Mello, thank you very much."

My brain shorted out. "B-But… you… and tower… you're in a fucking dress! What gives?"

Mello just shrugged and sat on the windowsill. "The rest of my clothes are in the laundry. This was all I had in my closet. It was either wear the fucking thing or strut around buck friggin' naked. As much as I'm sure you would've enjoyed that, I still have some modesty. Not much, though."

"I was supposed to rescue Rapunzel and marry her," I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. "How the hell did I end up at your tower?"

"Wrong turn?" he offered, moving from his spot on the sill to stand in front of me and look me over, eyes roaming over me critically. "Yeah, you'll do, Prince Graceless."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'll do for what?"

Rolling his eyes as if the answer were obvious, he said slowly, as if talking to a two-year-old, "To be my husband, 'cause I'm marrying you."

"I'm not gay, though!" I protested, slapping Mello's hand away as he tried reaching for my hair.

"Well," he started, stepping closer to me and causing me to run into the wall, leaning his elbow on the spot above my head, "since you came up here, to my tower, and said that you were my rescuer, you are. You know, because I'm a _guy _and all. Love it, Mattie boy."

It wasn't that I problem with being with another guy—in fact, I preferred them to girls. I was just freaking out because… "Oh, _shit_. Mom and dad are going to fucking _kill me_ when they find out I'm marrying a guy. Fuck, fuck, fucking shit son of a bitch covered in piss. My life is so over."

"Relax, Matt. It's not that bad. Besides, I heard sex with another guy is wicked hot."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Well, Mario, looks like your princess is in another castle. Although, if the wrong princess was Mello, I'd ditch Peach and just leave her for Bowser.

And OH HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, MATT WOULD LOOK TOTES FUCKING SEXY IN KNIGHT'S ARMOR. FFFFFFFFFFFF… *molests Matt*


	35. Follow you home

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck, aaaaaaaand fuck. That had been one hell of a close call for the leather-clad blond inching along the bricks of the alleyway and scanning his surroundings, looking for that damn devil-kid so that he can get the hell out of dodge in the opposite fucking direction. Ever since that one night about six months before, he couldn't really go out to anywhere social-ish thanks to the redhead that made it his job to stalk the rather feminine-looking young adult. "Coast is clear…" he muttered to himself, doing another double-take before strutting out into the light of the streetlamp. "So far, so good…"

"Mello!" Shit. All of a sudden, bashing his head against the nearest brick wall looked pretty damn tempting, but he decided against it, seeing as there would be nobody to wash his leather. Win some, lose some. "_Damn_, Mello. Slow the fuck down, would you? Can't a guy say hi?"

Yep. Mello was much displeased. "Go away, Matt," he said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest and gripping tightly on his upper arms to avoid lashing out and breaking Matt's nose. "And honestly, stop fucking following me. It's irritating, and would you get it through your thick fucking skull that _I don't fancy you_?"

The gamer sighed and wrapped an arm around Mello's shoulders, making him tense up and bristle visibly as he grit his teeth. "You've never given me a chance," he pouted, pulling the puppy-dog eyes at the blond and making him, in turn, pull a face that was a cross between shock and horror.

"With the way you follow me like some retarded, brainless puppy, you're never going to get a chance," he seethed, grabbing the thumb on the arm wrapped around his shoulders and putting it into a lock, causing the boy in pain to whimper and buckle at the knees. "Don't. Touch. Me. Got it?"

He nodded quickly and Mello released his appendage, leaving him to rub the pain away before huffing indignantly. "Can't I just have one try?"

"No," Mello answered emotionlessly, inspecting the ends of his hair.

"One real kiss?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Just one?"

"…will you leave me alone?"

Matt perked up immediately. "If you don't like it, yeah."

Figuring there was only one way out, the dominatrix-esque blond sighed and hung his head in defeat. "Fine. But just one. There's only one condition, though." Matt started to say something, but was cut off when Mello pushed him into a street sign and pinned him there. "I call the shots."

Not wasting any more time, Mello crushed his lips to Matt's, thoroughly taken aback by how unbelievably soft and pliant they were as he coaxed a reaction from the thunderstruck redhead he was pressing himself against. Soon after, Matt's brain caught up with him and he started to respond to the other male's actions, not fighting when he felt Mello guide his hands to his own sides.

Mello broke the kiss at the same time a metal-on-metal clank was heard, and Matt looked at his wrist to find himself handcuffed to the sign's pole. "What the—"

Licking his lips and grinning smugly at the confused gamer, Mello said, "Not bad, but still not enough to get in my pants, Mattie." Dragging a fingertip from the hollow of his throat to under his chin, he leaned into his ear and added, "Don't worry; I'm sure _someone _will find you by morning," before biting the lobe softly and stalking off.

"Mello! Get back here, you son of a bitch! When I get out of this, I'm gonna find you! I won't give up on you!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **LOL WTFITS? Damn you, Nickelback!

So, I already posted one for today (haha, midnight counts as today), but I've been going through folders and found this one.

On a side note, would anybody read it if I started a collection like this for L and Light?


	36. NOTEable

**M2,**

**I'm not happy with your output lately.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_I told you, idiot, I'll bottom if you want me to._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Not what I meant, but I'll take you up on that offer.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Then what the hell did you mean? You're confusing me._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**To be frank, you're kind of useless around here. Honestly. Do you ever actually do what I ask of you during the day?**

**M**

###

_M,_

_It depends on the day. But the answer's 'no' only on days that end in the letter 'y.'_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Bastard.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_You love it._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Maybe I do. Maybe I don't.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_If you didn't, why would you let me screw you senseless whenever I felt like it?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Stress relief. And who's to say that I actually **_**do **_**'love' you? I don't remember ever saying anything about it.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_It was implied, you smarmy git._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**The same way it was implied that you actually serve a purpose on this damn planet?**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Fuck you._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Nah, not in the mood. I think I'll just lounge out on the couch, smoke a cigarette, and play some videogames while blatantly ignoring what was asked of me. Oh, wait… that's you.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Ha, ha, fucking ha, you son of a bitch. Why the hell are we passing post-its back and forth, anyway?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**I lost my voice.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Aww, did I make ickle Melly-poo scream too loud last night?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**You wish. I bitched out my cronies today, a little too passionately, and yelled my voice out. And, if memory serves, **_**you**_** were the one making most of the noises.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_I hate you. You know that, right?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**I hate you, too. I hate you so damn much I actually like you.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Slinky little bitch, ain't ya?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**And you wouldn't have it any other way.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_I'm bored._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Well, I'm sorry this isn't a **_**GRIPPING TALE **_**full of **_**MIND-BLOWING PLOT TWISTS **_**intermingled with **_**THRILLING ACTION.**_** Suck it up.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_But isn't there at least _something_ better we could be doing?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Now that you mention it, we're running low on groceries. And chocolate. Why haven't you gone out and bought chocolate yet this week?**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Pardon me for not wanting to freeze my ass off._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Lazy ass, might I add. We need milk, bread, eggs, chocolate, ramen, licorice—why the fuck is that even **_**there**_**? Everybody knows licorice fucking sucks—and rice.**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Jesus Christ. Quit your bitching, would you? But it seems like a good idea for us to go shopping soon. Do you want to go right now?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**Why the hell not?**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Sounds like a plan. I'll drive._

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**I'm fine with that. Oh, and Matt?**

**M**

###

_M,_

_Yeah, Mels?_

_M2_

###

**M2,**

**I'm topping tonight.**

**M**

**

* * *

Author's Note: **LOL Mello, you little piece of work, you.


	37. Naturally

"I wonder what everyone back at Wammy's thinks we're doing right now," I mused, moving stealthily closer to Mello. He didn't answer me, just kept on roasting his marshmallow, so I took it as a sign to keep talking. "Linda still thinks you're banging me."

Snorting, he pulled his now-toasted marshmallow out of the campfire and blew on it before stuffing it into his mouth. "Lord knows we're just a kiss away from actually dating," he said around the gooey mess that used to be a marshmallow, rolling his eyes and looking away from me. He swallowed the damn thing and continued with, "It's a laughable thought, though."

I cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "What's a laughable thought?"

"You and me kissing."

Something in me died right then, and I responded with a quiet, "You… wouldn't want to kiss me?"

Pulling another marshmallow out of the bag and impaling it on the stick in his hand, he answered, "I never said I don't want to; I just said it's a funny thought to run across one's mind. I guess what I'm trying to say is, no matter how much I may or may not want to kiss you, the mere idea of you and me in _that_ kind of a relationship is pretty fucking giggle-worthy."

"So, you do want to kiss me?"

He sighed and glanced over at me, uncaringly tossing the marshmallow/stick combo over his shoulder and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I guess I do, if only just a little bit. Something inside me always told me I should just kiss you and get on with my life."

Mustering up the last shred of dignity I had left, I offered, "We could kiss right now if you wanted to."

"Are… are you sure?" he asked, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

I nodded slowly, saying, "I'm sure. But, um, what kind?" Having had many a girlfriend I was no stranger to kissing, and I had definitely had enough practice to not embarrass the shit out of myself. "Like, a peck, a few seconds, a longer one, making out, what?"

"I guess we'll just let instincts lead us." Twiddling my thumbs nervously, I nodded again and averted my gaze, knowing fully that my face was bright red. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Sure enough, a semi-cold hand gently grabbed my chin and turned my face upwards to see Mello, smirking like a bastard and leaning closer. As our noses brushed, I felt the back of my sinuses tingle and I quickly pulled away to avoid sneezing in my best friend's face. "Achoo!"

Now thoroughly embarrassed, I apologized sheepishly and rubbed at my nose, willing the outdoor allergies to go the fuck away and leave me alone. Sucking in a deep breath, I scooted closer to Mello and leaned in again, only to have our noses crash together rather painfully. "Well damn," he swore softly, and the nasal sound his voice made because of his constant rubbing made me giggle lightly, "that hurt."

"We're oh-for-two," I said, wiggling away from Mello. "I don't think this will work—"

Mello stopped me from moving away by cupping my face with both of his hands and forcing me to turn and face him, all joking gone from his eyes as he looked at me with nothing but a serious determination. It was the same look he got when he was serious about something, when he was studying, and when he glared at Near. "You worry too much," he murmured, holding me in place with both his hands and his captivating stare. "Just close your eyes and let it come naturally."

Doing as I was told, I closed my eyes and moved forward a tad, meeting him in the middle in a simple, first-kiss type of kiss. We sat there, mouths pressed against each other, for a good minute or so before something pushed me to drag out the kiss by moving my lips, and to my surprise Mello moved with me, taking one hand off my face and carefully holding the back of my neck.

Keeping it chaste, he started rubbing the nape of my neck to get me to relax and melt against him, making a whine of want rise from my throat as my arms lifted and wrapped around his neck. I pulled him closer to me, losing all rational thought and running my tongue along his bottom lip to ask for permission to enter; when he granted it, I swung a leg over him to sit in his lap, giving me better access to his lips.

Somewhere in my long-gone mind, I was cracking up. _I suppose now I know how the girls feel when they make out with a guy. And honestly… I like it. Why the fuck didn't I do this sooner?_

* * *

"Oh, this is perfect," I grinned, using the zoom function on my camcorder to get right up in the action, if only for the sake of my YouTube viewers. "That's right, boys. Snog for momma…"

Munching on a cookie, Ellie stalked up behind me and made me jump slightly when she spoke. "What are you doing, Linda?"

Zooming in further, I replied, "Filming the beautiful thing known as yaoi, Cookie." I wasn't entirely sure that she even _liked _the nickname I gave her, but she never said anything about not liking it. So, I continued addressing her by it.

"¿_Qué significa eso_?"

"Gay. Lovely, lovely gay. Where are Mace and Jason?"

She shrugged, pulling out a plastic baggie with another cookie in it and offering it to me; I accepted it and shoved half of it into my mouth, leaving the other half hanging out while concentrating back on my guaranteed-millions-of-views. Completely focused, I hadn't noticed Ellie's friends walking up behind me until Mace stood right next to me and peered through the bushes.

He pulled a face, saying, "That's disgusting." Not taking my undivided attention away from Mello and Matt, I stepped down hard on Mace's foot and dug my heel in a little. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow! What the hell was that for?"

"Love is never disgusting," I said matter-of-factly, feeling his scowl directed at me as Wammy's second and third best broke apart and smiled stupidly at each other.

And I had it all on tape.

Damn, I'm evil.


	38. December 13th

Ah, ten in the morning. Such a lovely time to wake up, what with the incessant beeping from the living room, the irritating clicking sound of buttons being mashed, and the horrible smell of cigarettes because Matt has the inability to take the damn things outside even when I bitch at him. But all these things make it home, and I like home.

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I froze in my tracks and slowly scanned my surroundings.

Beeping—negative.

Clicking—negative.

Cigarette smoke—also negative.

What the fuck? Where the fucking hell was Matt? He should've been downstairs either playing fucking videogames or making me breakfast, because that little ass _better_ not have forgotten my goddamn birthday. Huffing, I pulled out a box of cereal and a bowl before shrugging and putting the bowl back, deciding to eat the shit straight out of the box. _It's my birthday, _I thought, _and I'll damn well do what I want._

After I finished my breakfast of champions, Matt still hadn't shown up, so I figured he could go fuck himself while I enjoyed my birthday. It's not every day you turn twenty-three, and I wasn't about to squander the day away searching for Matt. So I headed back upstairs, threw on a pair of swim trunks, and sauntered out back to our little pool building.

It came with the house. Plus, it made it easier to go swimming in winter, since it was located conveniently in its own little shed-type thing.

I was prepared to spend the day relaxing in the pool.

I was prepared to spend the day not worrying about what the hell Matt was doing.

I was not prepared, however, to find Matt by the pool, in nothing but a pair of skinny jeans, filling the fucking thing up with Jell-O.

"Matt, you crazy motherfucker, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, throwing my head back and cursing at my friend's idiocy.

Adding more gelatin, he replied, "Well, remember when you said you'd always wanted to roll around in Jell-O?" I nodded. "Um, happy birthday, Mels," he added, smiling nervously as I dropped my towel and my jaw. "Mello?"

"OhGodyouruleyou'rethebestfriendever," I said quickly, shooting over to grab him up in a rib-crushing hug and squeeze him until he pried me off of him. "You're coming with me, y'know."

"Wait, what?" he started, only to be interrupted by me pulling him into the jiggly mass as I jumped in. "Mello! These are my favorite pants!"

Flicking some Jell-O out of my bangs, I pounced on him and giggled at his girlish protests about his hair, or his pants, or something else I couldn't give two shits about. "C'mon, Matt, just have some fun!" Finally giving in, he retaliated by jumping on top of me, and we spent the next few hours just rolling around, laughing, and having the time of our lives.

"Oh my God, we are so sticky," he said, wiping some orangeness off his chest and grinning at me. "Mels, you've got a huge chunk stuck in your hair." He reached a hand out and plucked the offending dessert from my hair, fingers slowly brushing my cheek before he leaned in and kissed me quickly, pulling away just as fast and biting his bottom lip. "S-Sorry about that. I d-didn't mean to…"

As soon as my brain caught up with me again, I threaded my left hand in his hair, pulled him forward, and locked our lips together, taking advantage of his slightly open mouth to fit us together more accurately. I could feel him shakily grab onto my waist and kiss me back, eyelashes fluttering against my cheek as he let out a contented sigh; moving back a fraction, I kept our noses pressed against the other and murmured, "Happy birthday to me."

Matt laughed before kissing me again.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Happy early birthday, Mello!

Posting this today because I've got finals to take tomorrow.


	39. Not working

"Matt, I… I don't know how to say this, but…"

"What is it, Mello?"

"This… isn't working. It's just not working out right now."

"H-How can you say that? What do you mean?"

"You and me, Matt. It's just not what it used to be. I can't handle it anymore."

"I d-don't understand, Mels! What the fuck are you saying?"

"I'm saying that this just isn't working anymore! It hasn't worked since we left England, Matt, and it's not me! It's you!"

"M-Mello…?"

"You've changed, Mattie, and I don't like it! I can't handle this new you, and I've just about had it with you and your stupid decisions!"

"Are you… are you breaking up with me?"

"…"

"…?"

"Fuck, of course not. I just can't stand your new clothing style. Go back to the damn stripes, Matt. Neon-emo-punk doesn't look good on you. On top of that, we can't go out in public because you might blind innocents with your fucking fluorescent colors."

"Why the hell didn't you just say that? I thought you were dumping me!"

"…Matt, you've been my boyfriend for over three years. You, of all people, should know that I'm straightforward and blunt; if I was dumping your ass, you'd've been ditched about an hour ago. Honestly."

"I f-fucking h-_hate_ you!"

"Love you too, babe. But seriously, go back to the stripes."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **I got some time in-between finals to write, so I typed this stupid little thing up.


	40. Solicitation

"Oi, Mello," Officer Dobson said, walking up to my cell with a sexy piece of redhead following closely behind, "Matt posted your bail. Congratulations, and don't let me see you in here again. This is the second time this month, and it's the tenth of August."

Nodding curtly at him, I strutted out of the holding cell and dragged my boyfriend out of the precinct, tossing him into the driver's seat of his car and flopping down on the passenger side. He started the car, pulling away from the curb and asking, "What did you get booked for this time, Mels?"

I pointedly looked away from him, muttering, "Solicitation."

"God damn, Mello," he sighed, taking the exit onto the highway and moving over a lane, "you told me you were going to stop whoring yourself out."

What the hell? "Jesus, I wasn't whoring myself out! I haven't done that since you and I got together! Fuck, you know you're the only one I have sex with now!"

"Then why the fuck did you get picked up for solicitation?"

Grunting, I crossed my arms deftly over my chest and glared at Matt, trying to make his head explode. "I don't know!"

He huffed. "Mello, they don't just book people for solicitation for no reason. What. Were. You. Doing?"

"Nothing! For fuck's sake, I was just standing on a street corner!"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **See? Even the fuzz thinks that Mels looks like a hooker. :)


	41. Victory

"Oh my God, Mels, you should've been there! It was like, so totally awesome and all that shit and there were these things that were so cool and gah! I almost crapped myself from the simple kickassness I was witnessing! I was all like, whoa, and everybody else was all like, yeah, inorite? And then blah, blah, and blah…"

Somebody. Kill me. Just fucking kill me right now. Strangle me, slit my throat, poison me, pop a cap in my ass. I don't care. Just do it.

"…and there was this really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really cool thing! I can't believe you missed it, Mello! You'd've loved it! OHMYGOD, I heard a rumor that next year it's gonna be even _cooler_, and they're gonna have this, and this, and la-di-da-di-da…"

Urge to kill… _rising_…

I look over at Matt, eye twitching at the fact that the fucker is still babbling away. Not only are my ears on the verge of bleeding profusely, but he's showing no signs of stopping any time soon. Mind you, it's ten at night, and I'd like to sleep. Sadly, until he shuts the fuck up, I can't do so.

There has to be a way to get him to stop.

Maybe I could whack him and knock him out…

Nah, he'd punch me when he came to. But there's gotta be another way to get him to stop fucking talking and go to sleep. I could use chloroform, hold his nose and cover his mouth, or… oh _yes_… perfect.

Holy _shit_, I'm evil.

Pulling myself out from underneath my covers and clearing the distance between our beds, I lean in and press my lips to his for a grand total of three seconds. When I pull back, he stares at me, blushes, and then faints.

Flawless victory.


	42. Braces

"Well, this is… embarrassing."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Linda rounded the corner and promptly gasped, staring wide-eyed at the two boys attached at the mouth—sort of—and slowly turning red. "Oh. My. God. I… I can't believe it… Matt and… Mello…"

Mello sighed and looked past Matt at the blushing pigtailed girl. "Really, Linda, it's not what it looks like. Matt and I just sorta ran into each other and _this _happened. And honestly, it's not my fault the dumbass can't watch where he's going."

"This is just as much your fault as it is mine, Mels!" He glared at the blond and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "If you hadn't tried to move, our braces wouldn't have gotten locked together! By the way, my mom will be here soon to take us to the orthodontist so he can fix this fucking mess."

Ignoring Matt's string of 'ow ow ow ow ow ow,' Mello dragged him to the front office to wait for Mrs. Jeevas to show up and get their little problem sorted out.

Half an hour later, the two friends were separate entities once more.

"I'm still blaming you," Mello informed the redhead snootily, pushing past Matt only to have the younger boy duck into an empty classroom and pull him along. "What the fucking hell is your problem, Matt?"

"I want to try something."

The taller boy rolled his eyes. "You want to kiss me, right?"

Matt blinked. "Wow. Is it that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

The gamer pouted. "Mels, I'm sixteen. How lame do you think I am? …wait, don't answer that."

Mello rolled his eyes again and grabbed behind Matt's neck, pulling him closer and meeting the other's pliant lips with his own. Soon they were moving together, slowly, and Matt was tangling his fingers tightly in Mello's hair as the blond wrapped his other arm around Matt's waist and brought their bodies even closer together.

Feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain, Matt broke the kiss and pulled back… and back… and back…

"Oh, _fuck _the world."


	43. Retainer

"Jethuth, that'th dithguthting!" Matt complained, pulling his tongue out of Mello's mouth and cringing, wiping furiously at the offended appendage and turning red. "God, it'th like licking a fucking pole! What the hell giveth?"

Mello reached into his mouth and removed the object under question. "Retainer, Mattie."

The redhead cringed again. "That wath nathty! Ick! Ew, ew, ew! You couldn't have at leatht taken it the fuck out before we fucking thtarted? What the hell?"

Shrugging, Mello put the retainer back in and smiled deviously. "You're _my _dog, Matso. You cater to _my _whims, not the other way around."

"It'th common courtethy!" he screeched, but nonetheless yanked Mello's retainer out again before replacing it with his tongue.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Second half to the "Braces" one from last chapter. Next installment will be the final part of the "Dental" arc.


	44. Filling

Mello eyed Matt warily, no longer focused on the morning newspaper but instead on the rather stupid-looking redhead trying to pick something out of his teeth with a fork. "Matt, use a fucking toothpick. Seriously. You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up."

"Mello," he said, pulling the fork out of his mouth and jutting his lower lip out in a subconscious pout, "I'm twenty-five. I think I'm perfectly capable of removing bacon from between my teeth without seriously injuring myself. And besides, what could possibly go wrong?"

The blond rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee and turning the page to the sports section. "Famous last words, _sweetie_," he replied nonchalantly, eyes roving over the printed words. "Ooo, looks like Jeter's doing better this year…"

Matt narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend and huffed, going back to molar-diving with the fork. "Think I'm fucking accident prone, don'tcha? I'll show you…"

A few minutes later, Mello's attention was brought back to the situation after hearing a loud, "MOTHERFUCKING JESUS CHRIST!" come from the gamer bouncing up and down with a hand held to his jaw. "Told you," he teased, grinning a grin that would've put the Cheshire cat to shame. "Break a tooth?"

He glared at him. "Fuck—ow!—you, Mello."

"Oh, c'mon," he sighed, standing up and heading over to where Matt was with a smirk still on his face. "Let me see." Prying the other boy's hand away from his mouth, he held Matt under the chin and forced him to open up, revealing that he had pulled out a filling. "Mattie, you lost a filling. Hurts like a bitch, don't it?"

Nodding, Matt blinked away the tears beginning to form at the edges of his eyes. "Y-Yeah, it does. Are you… going to take me to the dentist?"

"Fuck no!" Mello laughed, flicking Matt's nose playfully. "I'm gonna make you suffer for a little while. After all, it's not my fault you yanked out a filling, nor is it my fault that your license is revoked. I hope you've learned something from all this?"

About an hour later, Mello was sitting on the couch and watching television when Matt slinked over and deposited himself in the elder's lap, wrapping his arms around Mello's neck. "Meeeellooooo," he purred, leaning in close and brushing their noses together.

Raising an eyebrow, Mello pushed the redhead out of his lap and shook his head at him. "Seducing me is not going to get me to take you to the dentist."

"Dammit."


	45. Snowstorm

"I _hate _my _life_," a shivering pile of blankets stated as a tuft of blond hair peeked out from the top, followed by a pair of soul-piercingly blue eyes and a tired scowl. "'We should spend the holidays in Colorado,'" he mimicked poorly, glaring at the blue-lipped redhead curled up in a ball across from him and pouting like a child that had just been sent to timeout. "_The _last time I listen to you when it comes to travel."

Rubbing his hands together for friction, Matt pulled his arms in from his sleeves and wrapped them around his upper torso, digging deeper into the collar of his thin striped shirt. "When I made plans, I did _not_ expect us to get trapped in a snowstorm. In my car, no less. It's the best I can fucking do, and I don't exactly see you sharing the blankets, you selfish, smarmy git."

"Maybe I'm not sharing because I don't want your homo ass that close to me."

Matt snorted. "Right. _I'm _the apparent fairy, yet _you're _the one that dresses like a goddamn dominatrix and could out-priss even the prissiest of girls. You've got stones, man."

The blond narrowed his eyes, but lifted up the pile of blankets nonetheless, inviting his companion to join him. "For a twenty-seven-year-old man, you sure do act like a teenage girl."

"Shut the fuck up, Mello, or I'll make you."

Mello rolled his eyes at the redhead and scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Why yes, yes it is."

The be-goggled man muttered a simple, "Good," before leaning in and kissing Mello.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Holy shnitz, I sincerely apologize for falling off the face of the earth for about a week. I spent Christmas in New Jersey visiting my family, and my parental units made me leave my computer at home. :(

But I'm back! :D


	46. Grocery store

"Did you find everything okay?" I asked on cue, scanning a few boxes of tampons and a bottle of water for the ditzy-looking blonde chick in my line as she went searching through her purse for her wallet.

She smiled at me after finding her money. "Yes, Misa found everything perfectly. So…" she trailed off, twisting her fingers together before swiping her credit card, "…Misa-Misa was wondering if—"

"Gay," I cut her off, tearing off and handing her the receipt for her 'groceries.' "Sorry."

* * *

Box of BiC pens, notebook, pound of apples, bottle of L'Oreal. "Quite the eclectic bunch of purchases, eh?" I joked lightly, scanning and bagging the pens with the notebook as the customer laughed, running a hand through meticulously styled light-brown hair.

"Well, it looks that way because it's only a snippet of my usual weekend shopping list," he said with a grin while he swiped his credit card, expertly pocketing it and leaning one elbow on the writing counter. "Listen, my co-workers and I are having a party this Sunday, and I—"

I held his bags out for him. "Taken. _Lo siento._"

* * *

"Hey!" Pausing in my restocking of the cigarettes, I turned around to see a cheery, flushed face. "Can I talk to you?"

I shrugged. "Sure thing, new guy."

He pointed to his nametag. "It's Matsuda. Um, there's this movie that just came out—the one about the guy who gets sucked into a videogame world and tries to find his dad—and I just wanted to know if…"

"Not interested," I sighed exasperatedly, pulling a box from underneath the counter. "Aisle seven's running low on Spaghetti O's." Pouting, he grabbed the box from me and slumped away to do his actual job.

* * *

"I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas, please," I sang, pushing the mop back and forth as I bobbed my head and continued cleaning up the vomit on the floor. "Fold 'em, let 'em hit me, raise it; baby, stay with me…" Somehow, singing and mopping turned into a full-out mini-concert complete with Gaga-approved dance techniques that I'm sure that mop won't forget for a while. I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard applause and laughter, looking over my shoulder to see a hot blond and promptly dropping the mop.

Smirking at me, he said, "Hey, don't stop on account of me. Just keep on goin'; I don't mind."

I blushed profusely and started sputtering like an idiot, unsuccessfully trying to explain myself. "I-I just… um… kid… puke… Gaga… mop… neh."

"Aww, don't be embarrassed. It was kinda cute. By the way, do you—"

_Oh my God! He's gonna ask me out! Eep! No, Matt, keep it together. Don't show your excitement, don't show your excitement…_

"—have any job openings?"


	47. Bacon

"Matt."

_Five more minutes, Mello._

"Maaaaaaaaaaaatt…"

_Just let me sleep, you ass._

"Matt, if you don't wake the fuck up right now, I'll start violating you in every way possible."

Cracking an eyelid, I muttered sleepily, "Please do."

"Alright, but you asked for it." A hand—a cold hand, mind you—crept underneath my covers and started trekking along my body, making me shudder and lean into Mello's touch with a contented sigh. When he reached around to give my ass a quick pinch, I yelped and shot my hands up into his hair to pull him down and kiss him feverishly.

God, seven in the morning and he already tasted like chocolate.

After he was finished thoroughly raping my mouth, he made to pull away until I wrapped my arms around him and held him there. "I don't wanna get up today," I murmured into his chest, squeezing him tighter. "Come back to bed."

"I made breakfast," he whispered into my ear, though it didn't make me move even the slightest inch.

"Don't care."

"We've got eggs."

"Still don't care."

"Sausage?"

"Nope."

"Pancakes?"

"Uh-uh."

"Bacon?"

Gone, babe. I was downstairs in five seconds flat; it would've taken less time if I hadn't fallen off the banister I tried sliding down. By the time I sat my little boxer-clad ass down at the table, my bacon was already sitting there, crispy and brown just how I liked it.

"I'm beginning to think you like bacon more than me," Mello said, walking down the stairs wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tanktop, hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Swallowing the greasy, heaven-sent 'delicacy' in my mouth, I replied, "Please. I _like _bacon. But I _love _you."


	48. Busy

"Matt."

"Ngh."

"You busy?"

"…for you? Of course not, Mello. It's not like I'm trying to beat Seymour or anything."

"There's no need to be a bitch, Mattles. I could do without the sarcasm for once."

"Hmph. Now that you've officially distracted me, what the fuck do you want from me?"

"Can you go get me chocolate?"

"…"

"Hmm?"

"…no…"

"What was that?"

"I said no! Go get your own motherfucking chocolate!"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Um… I love you?"


	49. Blunt

Think about this for me—me, being a blunt motherfucker and telling everything how it is. Got it yet? Yes? Okay, cool. Now forget that, because the only blunt motherfucker who tells everything how it is happens to be Matt.

I'm not kidding you. That asshole can take anything and make you feel uncomfortable just by showing the possibility of underlying innuendoes or some fucking shit like that. It's fucking _ridiculous_.

We met for the first time when we were eleven, and contrary to popular belief I was not opposed to having a roommate. Roger came into my room, dropped Matt off, told me not to kill him, and ran off with his tail between his legs, the wuss. I said, "Hi," hoping to maybe break the random awkward silence that had dropped onto the damn scene.

Matt just stared, lifted his goggles onto his forehead, and said, "Well. Wasn't aware that the rooming arrangements were co-ed…"

Oh, yeah. I was pissed. "WHAT?"

"Oops. Sorry, dude; thought you were a chick. It's an easy mistake, though."

"You think I look like a girl? Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, has _ever_ spoken to me with such attitude and disrespect before!" I spent a second or so seething before calming down and holding out my hand. "I like that. I'm Mello."

He raised an eyebrow at my outstretched hand before looking back up at me again. "The hell you are. Are you bipolar?" Shrugging, I held my pointer finger and thumb a short distance apart to show the universal sign for 'a bit.' "Eh, didn't need you to tell me that, but hey, every conversation needs an icebreaker. I'm Matt, and I suppose you should know that I couldn't give two shits about what rank I end up as."

"That's nice," I replied, retracting my hand and running it through my hair nervously. Noticing that he was starting to turn around and head back out the door, I asked, "Hey, where are you going?"

Pursing his lips, he answered, "Um, lunch?" and walked past the threshold, poking his head back in to say one last thing. "By the way, Blondie, I think you're hot. Call me when your gayness hits full-tilt."

Yep. That's my special boy.


	50. Observant

Being Wammy's-bred, all of us successors are rather observant, logical people. Me not so much, but Mello's one of the most observant people I know, which is why I find his recent behavior maddeningly peculiar.

A couple of weeks ago he started carrying around a small notebook and pencil, occasionally doing what most folks would classify as "stupid shit" before scribbling something down in his notebook. I don't mean averagely stupid; I mean excessively stupid. The same day he acquired his little black book he decided to slingshot broccoli at the back of Roger's head—needless to say, Oldie McGeezer was not too thrilled about the whole situation.

Mello just jotted something down with an, "Mmm-hmm."

Not even a week later, he picked a fight with Dylan, the House's biggest resident and the notorious ass of recess. I was too far away from the whole spiel to actually hear what Mels said (thank God), but whatever it was made Dylan mad enough to wind up a haymaker and attempt to hit my asshole of a best friend.

Mello blocked it, kneed him in the gut, and walked away writing on his notepad.

So, naturally, I'm a little worried because he's sitting across from me and staring at me while I down a Milky Way bar and play some Mario Kart. The longer he just stares at me, the more likely it is that I'll crack and spill how I actually like him more than any friend should ever be allowed to. Mello's not even aware that I'm gay, so if I just came out and told him, "Hey, I happen to think you're the sole definition of sex-on-a-stick," it'd be worse for me than if I pulled my thoroughly closeted ass out step-by-step.

Yes, thoroughly closeted. We're talking so far in the closet I've found fawns and evil witches.

"Hey, Matt?" Mello speaks up, catching my attention and rolling over onto his back.

Off-handedly (faked, of course; I'm totally paying attention to him), I reply, "Yeah?" in the calmest, most uneager voice I can muster.

"What's your opinion on gays?"

I choke on my candy bar and pause my game to cough violently and blush a dark, dark shade of red as I pound on my chest and avoid looking Mello straight in the face. _Holy shit, _I think in awe, trying to remember how to breathe, _I can't believe he asked a question like that. Does he know?_ "Um, I think that, uh, people don't understand them so they, um, discriminate against them. B-But I know that, uh, gays are people too, and they should be treated like them."

"Interesting…" Scribble, scribble, scribble. "I just need to know one more thing…"

Before I can do anything about it, a hand holds my chin and tilts my face up as something soft and warm settles on my lips—Mello's. I've been kissed before, but all the other times had been planned, and with girls that were too shy to make the first move; it's different being on the opposite side of it for once. Figuring that I may not get another chance like this, I nervously lift a hand and slide it into his hair, pulling him closer and kissing him back.

We break apart after a few minutes, and I'm feeling dizzy and lightheaded from both holding my breath and the sheer fascination of who I'd been swapping spit with. Slowly, I open my eyes to see Mello pulling out his handy-dandy notebook and pencil, and with nobody around I can hear him mutter what he's writing.

"Reaction to kiss indicates mutual feelings…"

* * *

**Author's Note: **It's here! The big fifty!

Huge thanks and virtual smoochies to: FrenchKissOfMandM, Goddess-of-Shadows12, Swifty444, Diamone, Allegriana, Martata, Kawaiikitty400, Darkfire359, empressfate, - romanisan, GogglesAndVideoGamesOhJoy, my darling wifey Chrissy Huntley/Flaming Fan Girlsnumbero dos, Me and My Shadow, nefertani, Okita-C.-Ahnezton, efemanatepixie, Kaslo, ILuvYa44, little-unoriginal-monster, G Runz With Skizzers, Meohy, CarefulSteps, Miss Bright, SabrinaScissorhands, She's An Actress, Eevee Tofu, Melanie Swirls, Tegami Zakura, laughing senseless, Eternally1Yours, Robotic unicorn, -AndWhyNot-, Secretive Yoai Lover, Mello's Yellow Jello, LeahKeehl13, Amour en Rayures, rabidfangirl666, anonymousXandrogynous, DarkAngelJudas, YaoiNoteLove, SyC0bEaR, BehindHappyFaces, VermillionStar, deathcabforkira, LullabyDust, HybridRebellion, Kittykata, Burning Moon of the Sky, Shinsetsu13, Ms. ShMary, Shiny Fluffy Matt Lover, amos222, and hinadear08.

Thanks for all your support, guys! :)


	51. Less than

"L!" a six-year-old Mello said brightly, running toward the dark-haired teenager and jumping up to wrap his arms around L's neck, his legs following suit but around his torso instead. "I'm so happy to see you! Will you come play with me?" he asked, letting go of the older boy and returning his feet to the ground, looking up at L expectantly.

A needy whine from behind the small blond made him turn around and frown disdainfully. "That's not fair!" Matt complained, pouting cutely and crossing his arms over his chest. "You always get to play with L! I wanna play with him!"

Mello stuck his tongue out at the watery-eyed, angered redhead and replied, "Too bad. I got here first, so nanny, nanny, boo-boo," clutching onto the slightly-disappointed cause of the disagreement possessively. "'Sides, L likes me better. Right?"

Trying to pry the demanding youngster off of him, L said, "Actually, I—"

"No he doesn't!" the freckled boy insisted, glaring at Mello hatefully. "L likes us all equally. But I'm sure he'd rather play with me, right?"

L _really_ needed to _leave_. "Boys, I have—"

"No he wouldn't, 'cause you're a weirdo!"

"Well, at least I'm not a meanie!"

"ENOUGH," L growled, causing both boys to stop bickering and cower a little under L's irritated gaze. "I have somewhere to be. Play with each other." With that, he strode out of the room and left the two to their own devices.

Matt glared at Mello. Mello glared right back. "I don't like you one bit," Matt muttered, still eyeing the blond.

Said blond scoffed and said, "Me either."

And so they sat there, staring at each other for little under an hour—never moving, never shifting, never speaking. The only sounds that could be heard throughout the common room were the voices of the other orphans enjoying the rest of the rather rainy afternoon indoors.

Suddenly, Matt cleared his throat, catching Mello's attention again. "…do you wanna play a game?"


	52. Equal to

"Do you like me?"

Mello raised a slender brow at the boy sitting at his feet, continuing to run his fingers through Matt's messy red hair absently. He sighed as Matt leaned his head back and stared at the blond with deceptively innocent green eyes, for once not covered by orange goggles. "Do I hit you? Do I threaten your life at least three times a day? Have I ever verbally showed dislike for you?"

The redhead pondered this for the shortest moment. "No."

"Then I like you. That's all there is to it."

Making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, Matt turned around so he was facing Mello and said, a bit annoyed, "You're missing the point, Mels. Do you _like _me?" Hauling himself to his feet, he plopped down on the bed and made the both of them bounce a miniscule amount. "Like, do you _like-like_ me? As more than just a friend?"

_That was definitely a strange thing to ask,_ Mello thought, _even for Matt. I wonder what's up?_ "Why the sudden interest?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows and looking at his gamer, waiting for a response.

"Well, it's just that…" Matt paused, searching for the right words, "…we're so close. We're almost fourteen, and the types of things we do together I've only ever seen girls our age do. None of the other boys are as close as you and me. I just think it's strange."

_Eh, good point. _"Nah, I don't like you like that. You're my best friend. Now quit asking stupid questions, wouldja?"


	53. Greater than

"Son of a bitch," Matt seethed, gritting his teeth and clutching at his bleeding shoulder as he maneuvered his Camaro through the busy Japanese streets, heading toward Nagano to meet Mello. With any luck, he wasn't dead yet.

When he arrived at the church, he was both pissed and worried to see it up in flames and no sign of his best friend anywhere. Just as he was about to run in there and try to find his snarky blond, he heard a coughing wheeze that sounded just like Mello did when he ate his chocolate too fast. "Matt?" the person—Matt assumed it was Mello, if the voice was anything to go by—called out, stumbling toward the redhead.

"Mello?" At his response, Mello sprinted over to him as best he could, and Matt expected the older man to be happy he was alive, fuss over his wounds, or, maybe, wrap his arms around him in a hug.

Which is why the surprise he felt when Mello tangled bloody fingers in his hair and yanked him in for a kiss was completely appropriate.

Matt started to get the hint when Mello nipped at his bottom lip, and he hooked an arm around the bloodied, burnt, _beautiful _object of his affections, pulling the leather-clad ex-Mafioso closer and finally returning the impromptu kiss.

"Do you remember," Mello said between kisses, "what you asked me six years ago?"

Breathlessly, Matt replied, "Yeah. And I also remember you saying 'no.'"

"Well," he started, smirking before plundering Matt's mouth with his tongue again, "I lied."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **The titles of this chapter and the previous two mean something.

Care to take a guess? ;D


	54. Intervention

I look around carefully to make sure nobody is watching, then ease into my room and close the door without a sound. Grinning victoriously, I turn around only to have someone—from the sound of their voice, it's probably Jason—blindfold me and hoist me over their shoulder. After what seems to be about five minutes, I'm dumped in a chair and my eyes are uncovered, showing me that I'm in a dark room, sitting at a table with just one singular light overhead.

The sound of something scraping against the floor catches my attention, and I look across the table to see Matt pulling up a chair and sitting down, a somber look on his face. "Mello," he says, tone serious, "we need to talk."

Scoffing, I reply, "We can talk back at the room. Why did you have Jason kidnap me?"

He finally glances up at me, and I realize that, for the first time in a long while, he's not wearing his goggles. His dark brown hair and navy blue shirt blend into the darkness, but his deep blue eyes stand out remarkably. "Don't play dumb with me. I had to make you listen."

"Listen to what? You play detective? What the hell is this?"

A moment of silence passes before he says, "This, Mello, is an intervention. You have a problem, but you're not willing to accept it."

No… he can't know about it. It's not possible… "I-I don't know what you mean," I lie, fingers twitching.

"Bullshit. You can't hide it, Mels; it's been obvious from the start."

I can feel a cold sweat creep up on me, sending chills down my spine as I start to tremble in my seat. "Y-You're lying. I d-don't have a problem. I can stop anytime I want."

He shakes his head. "No, you can't. It's an addiction, buddy, and you're letting it control you." Suddenly, his expression goes from sincere to soft and caring, and he continues with, "I don't wanna see you lose yourself. You haven't been the same since you started using it, Mello. I just want my best friend back."

"But I-I'm right here!"

Tears start forming in the corners of his eyes as he harshly whispers, "No, you're not! _This _isn't you; _this _isn't my Mello! Look at you! Your fingers are restless because you can't handle going this long without it! Face it!"

Somehow, my eyes are beginning to burn with tears of my own. "It's not true, Matt! It doesn't make my decisions for me! I can do things on my own! It's not an addiction!"

"Yes it is!" He jolts up, slamming his palms down on the table and kicking the chair backwards, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he glares at me. "Just accept it, you asshole! _You have a fucking problem_!"

Vehemently, I deny his claims by shaking my head violently side-to-side. "I don't! I don't, I don't, I don't!"

"Yes, you do! Dammit, Mello, you're fucking addicted to Facebook! _Accept it_!"


	55. Direct Approach

One of the things that made Matt so loveable was his uncanny ability to not realize how lame and geeky he actually was. Granted, I didn't help diffuse the situation by telling him the truth (because a sixteen-year-old Matt trying to be cool, with his baggy pants, skater shoes, graphic tees and beanies, was too fucking cute), but I didn't exactly hurt it by keeping my mouth shut, either.

Matt was always under the impression that he was a ladies' man.

I can personally assure you that that's complete and utter bullshit. Please and thank you.

Every time he asked a girl out (which pissed me off royally, because Matt is _mine_), it pretty much followed along these lines:

"You, me, movies, Friday at seven. Sound like a plan?"

And the answer?

"No."

So, as I am his best friend, he always came crying to me even though I expressly told him not to come crying to me if something went wrong. He'd pester me with questions like, "What's wrong with me?" or, "Why don't any girls want to go out with me?" or my personal favorite, "What am I doing wrong?"

I told him to change his approach, so the very next day he showed up to school in a striped polo, straight-leg jeans, and black Converse. Altogether a normal outfit by my standards.

(Not like I really have a say. The principal stopped bothering me about the dress code once she realized yelling at me wouldn't stop me from wearing my leather to school.)

He walked up to Venise, tapped on her shoulder, and nervously stumbled over his words until he finally managed to ask her out on a date. From where I was standing—over by my locker, for those of you who are wondering—it seemed to be going pretty well.

Up until the point where she said 'no' and poor, ickle Mattie-cakes came sulking over to me and buried his face in my chest.

It was a hollow victory.

My advice for him that day was to try to change something else to be different, and I guess he got the hint because he cheered up pretty quickly and bounded off to class.

The _next _day (you keepin' score?), he tried the Direct Approach: walk up to subject, invade subject's personal space, lean one elbow on wall above subject, lean closer to subject, seduce subject with eyes, and pop question to subject.

…did I mention he tried the Direct Approach on _me_?

"So, Mello," he husked, making me start to feel like Mello-pudding, "how's it goin'?"

Gulping, I replied, "F-Fine. Um, what about y-you?"

"Oh, I'm doing okay. Just thinkin' about that new movie that came out. I have a friend that got me tickets, but he got me two. I don't have anybody to go with."

I suppressed an 'eep' and held my binder tighter to my body as he leaned closer. "That's a shame!" I squeaked, trying to shrink back into the wall of lockers.

"So… I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. Y'know, you and me, a tub of popcorn, sharing a soda, watching cars getting blown up." Smirking, he stepped closer so that our hips were nearly touching, which only elevated my body temperature. "A date."

_Oh God oh God oh God he's so close my God what do I do I want it so bad but God he's so close…_ "U-Uh, s-sure, Matt. Sounds like f-fun."

He backed away and grinned at me, and I could feel my normal thought processes return just as quickly as they'd left. "Awesome. I'll pick you up at six." Turning around, he started to walk away and I decided what I wanted to do when he was in the middle of the hallway.

"Matt!" He stopped and turned to face me as I hustled over to him, face still really fucking red. "Just wanted to give you something before our date."

"What?"

Knowing fully that everyone's eyes were on Matt and me, I hooked one leg behind Matt's knee to make him lose his balance and bend backward before grabbing behind his neck and leaning down for a dramatic, Hollywood-esque kiss. Cheering and catcalls erupted from the other students, and I swore I heard someone say, "Finally!"

After I was done kissing him, I let him stand back up and watched as he wandered off in a daze, a stupid smile slapped onto his face.

I amaze myself with my handiwork sometimes.


	56. Incompatible

"Mello," Roger said, pushing a redheaded kid into the blond's room, "this is Matt. He'll be your roommate from now on, so please, try to be nice to him." The man left without another word, and silence dropped upon the room like a fucking H-bomb.

Matt, Mello decided, was one of the strangest-looking kids he'd ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. With his obnoxiously red hair, lack of fashion sense, and irritating habit of not paying attention to shit that was happening around him, it was obvious that he and Mello probably weren't going to get along very well. "Hello," Mello started, hoping to break the silence and awkwardness as he extended a hand. "How do you do?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How do I do what?"

"Never mind," Mello sighed, trying to pinpoint Matt's accent. He could tell it wasn't English like his own, but he couldn't quite put his thumb on what exactly it was. "What do you like to do?"

Not bothering to look up from his handheld, Matt replied, "Whatever I feel like. What time is it?"

"High noon."

"Ah. Jeet yet?"

Mello furrowed his eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

Shutting off his game, Matt shoved the handheld into his back pocket and looked at Mello, waving a hand dismissively. "Eh, fugitaboutit." He perked up. "Hey, ya think they got tomato pies here?"

Eye twitching, Mello stomped out of the room and down the hall to Roger's office, bursting through the door without even a knock. "Roger!"

Roger winced. "Yes, Mello?"

"I cannot live with that child!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms over his chest. "We are incompatible!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Roger asked, "And why is that?"

"Because he's from… he's from…"

A terrified look overtook Mello's face as his voice dropped to just above a whisper.

"…_he's from New Jersey._"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **No, before anybody goes all PC on me, I'm not making fun of people from Jersey. Okay, I am, but it's fine because I'm from Jersey, too. :)


	57. Adventure

"Mello, I'm bored."

"That's nice."

"I wanna go on an adventure. A fun one."

"What kind of adventure?"

"…well, it depends. There are all kinds of adventures: at the mall, in the jungle, the attic of Wammy's House, you name it. But there's one kind of adventure I've always wanted to try out. It's always sounded like a busload of fun."

"And what type of adventure would that be?"

"Oh, what's the word… linchi…? line…? ling…? linguistic…? Yeah, linguistic! A linguistic adventure."

"A linguistic adventure?"

"Stop giving me that look. I'm serious. I wanna go on a linguistic adventure."

"Then go drinking with a Scotsman."

"Why?"

"'Cause you can't fuckin' understand 'em before."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Oh, Robin Williams. I love you so.


	58. Persuasion

_"I want your ugly, I want your disease—"_

_"It ain't easy livin' free—"_

_"—I want your everything as long as it's free—"_

_"—season ticket on a one-way ride—"_

_"—I want your love—"_

"Fuckin' hell, Mello!" _"—askin' nothin', leave me be—"_

_"—love, love, love, I want your love—"_

Mello smiled like a guilty cat. "What's wrong, Mattie-baby? I thought you _liked _Lady Gaga."

"I do not! You fucking know that I can't fucking stand _Lady fucking Gaga. _Turn it back to AC/DC. _Now_," Matt seethed, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drove down the mostly empty highway, trying to ignore his irritating, pain in the ass, adorable boyfriend. He forcefully pressed the station jump button on the radio and grit his teeth in anger.

Slyly, Mello reached his left hand across the redhead's lap while occupying his other hand with changing the radio station just as his fingers slipped beneath Matt's waistband. Delighting in the labored breathing it caused, he unbuckled his seatbelt with his right hand and leaned closer to the flustered teenager, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Mmm… you were saying?"

"T-Turn i-i-it back, M-Mello," Matt stuttered, hands shaking as he attempted to drive safely.

The blond picked up his speed and started sucking on Matt's neck. "I don't think you're so sure about that, Matt…"

Matt threw a half-assed glare sideways at the torturously gorgeous boy putting him through hell, making Mello laugh quietly as he unbuttoned his gamer's pinstriped shirt and kissed his way down the pale chest. As soon as Mello bit the skin right above his bellybutton, Matt knew he was done for.

"OkayI'mfinewithLadyGaga!"

Smiling again, Mello rid himself of all contact with Matt's now-horny body and sat back in his seat, looking and feeling satisfied. "I knew you'd see it my way."


	59. Stereotypes

"Ha! That _is_ spot-on!"

With a scowl on his face, Mello looked up from his textbook at his giggling best friend, glowering silently as the redhead continued laughing like an idiot. His grip on his pencil tightened and his eye began twitching as he said, "Matt, I'm trying to study for our test in World History. Would you kindly _shut the fuck up_?"

Matt pulled out one earbud and directed his attention away from the laptop screen. "I'm studying, too."

The blond leaned over and peeked at the screen, snorting. "Bullshit. You're watching anime, not studying."

"Au contraire, mon ami," the gamer countered, waggling his eyebrows. "I _am _studying for our test; actually, I think I might just ace that test tomorrow after all the studying I'm doing. Care to find out how?"

Mello sighed. What the hell, right? He ripped the earbud out of Matt's hand and stuck it in his ear, watching the anime with a bored expression. After about two minutes of it, Mello couldn't take anymore and gave Matt his earbud back. "You're not going to learn anything from watching that, and it was easily the most racist fucking thing I've ever seen. The stereotypes are completely off! Nobody I know is like that!"

An eyebrow cocked. "Oh, really?"

"Linda's French."

"And she fucking molests everyone, as well as functions as the romantic advisor." Point.

"I'll give you that one. But… Mace is German. Ha."

"And a workaholic control freak. Plus he's a damn neat freak." Oh ho ho. Point.

A slight tinge of pink overtook Mello's face. "W-Well, Roger's British. And I've never heard him call anybody a 'wanker.'"

"You're never there when I get sent to his office, are you?" Burn. Pointy-pointy-point.

Pout. "Russia's is totally false! We're portrayed as kind in appearance but murderous underneath the bullshit we put out for the world, and it also shows that we're overly-intimidating! I am not like that!"

"Mello," Matt said, pausing his sentence to grab Mello's chin and drag his lips up to meet his own, "it's a fucking fictional show. Besides—" he let go of the other boy and sat back in his seat, easy smile on his face, "—America's personality is right on the nose. But I agree with what you said."

Confused, Mello asked, "What do you mean?"

"What you said about Russians. I don't think you're murderous." He leaned back in to peck the blond on the cheek before moving to his ear to whisper, "Just severely hazardous."


	60. UST

"Bloody hell, everything is so big!" Mello pointed out, looking up at the sky-high skyscrapers with a slight gape to his mouth.

Nudging him with my elbow, I said, "Yeah, I know. Stop looking like a tourist, damn it; you're embarrassing me." The last thing I needed was to be labeled as an obvious visitor to the city, though I'd lived in the big city long before my parents shipped me off to a boarding school in England.

He turned to me. "Still, it's not like I've seen buildings this big back home."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and shrugged, disaffected by the general landscape I'd grown accustomed to. "Welcome to New York City, Mels. Where structures and dreams are big and one out of every three people is a fucking jackass. Now quit stopping in the middle of the sidewalk before you cause a ten-person pileup."

"Fine. Ugh, how much farther is it to your flat? My feet hurt."

* * *

The first thing Mello did when he saw the inside of my apartment was blink a few times. "Wow. It just screams…"

"Only child?" I offered, seeing as I had no sibling influence to shape how I lived.

"…geek. Which room is mine?"

Flopping onto the couch and promptly turning it on, I answered, "The one on the right. I had one of my buddies unpack your shit for you to repay a favor." I watched off-handedly as he wandered into his bedroom, swallowing thickly after he shut the door.

And so day one of Operation Give Mello a Place to Stay While Simultaneously Not Jumping Him began.

God have mercy on my soul.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Some more American!Matt for you all (though it's more SnarkyAsshole!Matt than anything...).


	61. Intern

A rather large and beefy man snapped his fingers and motioned at the redhead nursing an eye twitch. "Oi, Red, go get me a coffee," he barked, making 'Red's' eye twitch worsen as he juggled the idea of whether or not he should go over there and wring the son of a bitch's neck with his bare hands.

"Right away, _sir_," he grit out, turning on his heel and marching off to find some arsenic to spike the java with—well, maybe that wasn't such a good idea, after all. "God. I've been working here for two fucking hours and I can already justify going postal on everyone's asses." Muttering to himself as he reluctantly stirred the scalding hot beverage, he reminded himself that he was doing it for Mello.

Just for Mello.

Like everything else he did.

God damn, was he whipped.

Not like, super-kinky bondage whipped—which would be hella sexy; Matt would have to remember that for later—but whipped enough to begrudgingly go out and look for a job when the pissy little blond love of his life told him he wasn't going to date and-slash-or sleep with an unemployed loser.

"Where is my coffee, Jeeves?"

Oh, no. He. Didn't.

Jeevas! Was it that fucking hard to get? Jee-fucking-vas! Seriously! He clenched his jaw tightly and headed back over to where he'd started from, handing the cup off with a, "I hope you burn in hell."

His boss paused. "What did you just say…?"

Uh-oh. Ass-covering time. "I said, 'I hope it's done well.'"

After a rash of the shittiest shit one can ever hope to receive in regards to shitty shit that shitheaded bosses full of nothing but shit throw at you like monkeys throw their own shit, Matt told the fat-assed piece of shit formerly known as his boss to blow it out his ass because hey, he quits.

* * *

Bitching and moaning, Matt struggled with the lock on his apartment door for a few minutes before deciding to kick the fucking thing out of spite. His incessant banging on the door led to an irate, "Fuck, I'm _coming_!" and heavy, booted footsteps as the door flung open to reveal a pissed off, leather-clad blond whose gaze softened upon recognition. "Matt, what the hell are you doing here?" Mello asked, stepping aside to let his boyfriend in.

Matt's only reply was to drop his coat, kick off his shoes, and fall face first onto the couch with a whine and a sob. "I quit," he replied, answer muffled by the couch cushions. "What am I up to now?"

Crossing _#456: Fashion designer intern _off of the obscenely long list taped to the refrigerator, Mello answered, "Number 457 is construction work."

Whine. "Why do I have to get a job when you yourself don't have one?"

Mello looked taken aback, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "I _have _a job, Mattie. I work for the Mafia."

The redhead lifted his face from the pillows it was buried in and tossed Mello a disbelieving look, raising one eyebrow to hell. "Okay… let me rephrase that. Why do I have to get a job when you don't have a _legitimate _one?"

"Because I told you to."

"And what makes you think that you can just tell me what to do and I'll do it?"

"Because you love me," he said matter-of-factly, smirking smugly as Matt's bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "Try again tomorrow. I'm going grocery shopping."

That perked Matt up; if there was one thing he loved more than anything, it was spending time with Mello. "Can I come?"

"No. Stay here and browse around for open construction sites that need extra workers."

* * *

"Fucking brats!" Matt swore, bursting through the apartment door with his glasses askew and some type of gooey shit stuck in his hair. "I swear, I'm gonna murder those little pests if it's the last thing I do! No respect for authority, no self-control, no manners, nothing! It's like they were fucking raised by fucking wolves! Augh!"

In the kitchen, Mello sighed and crossed off _#521: Substitute teacher_.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Holy shit, it's been too long. I sincerely apologize, but school kinda came and kicked my ass to kingdom come, what with all of the extra work I've had to do lately. I'll try to update this at least three times a week, if not more, but I'm not making any promises.

Hopefully this longer chapter makes up for it? :3


	62. Hyper

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~!"

I looked up from the dictionary I was reading to see my idiotic redhead running around the Wammy's House backyard, occasionally tripping over stuff only to get back up and resume his stupidity. Sighing, I resisted the urge to turn around and bash my head against the tree trunk I was leaning on and said, "Matt, what the fucking hell are you doing?"

He came running toward me, only to trip over a rock and land, face first, six inches away from my crisscrossed legs. "Ow," he moaned, pulling himself to his knees and brushing off his face plant, bouncing up and down. "What's up, Mello?"

A bit unnerved by his uncharacteristically enthusiastic facial expression, I put my dictionary down and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'd like to know what's up with you. Are you high, or something?" The last time he'd gotten toasted, it took nearly eight hours to get him back to reality.

"Nope," he said with a grin, shaking his head quickly enough to almost give _me _a headache. "Linda just gave me some candy and I really really liked it so she gave me some more and more and more and more and then I realized that I'd had a lot and then I started to feel kinda tingly and then I don't remember what happened too well and then a whole bunch of stuff happened and now I'm talking to you cool story huh?"

Oh, shit. The only thing Matt could handle less than drugs was high amounts of sugar. "Matt," I muttered calmly, "just how much sugar did you have?"

"Six pixy stix." Good; that would make it easier to control him. "Wait I messed up it was actually six _dozen _pixy stix 'cause they tasted really really good so I just kept going and going and going and going and I only stopped when Linda ran out."

My God. _Seventy-two fucking pixy stix. _"Six dozen pixy stix, Matt? Are you fucking _crazy_?"

"But that's not all I had, Melly!" How could this get worse? "I also had thirteen bigass cans of Monster, twenty-three cans of Red Bull, four Vaults, eight Rockstars, and half a dozen shots of espresso! Isn't that _awesome_~?"

I wanted to cry. I really did. But because I'm too _fucking manly, bitch _to do so, I settled for turning around, bashing my head against the tree trunk, and watching as my sanity slowly slipped through my fingers. "Why must I always date the stupid ones?"

**

* * *

Author's Note: **My research paper's been owning my soul, guys.

SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION: Go read "How to Become a Successful Nation!" You'll laugh, guaranteed!


	63. Kiss

One of the benefits of living with someone for years is that you really don't need to look up to know when they've entered the room, such was the case when Mello felt the cold air from outside speed through the room before the other side of the couch dipped.

From first glance, it might've seemed as though Mello didn't appreciate Matt's company enough to pull his nose out of the copy of _Gardening & Guns _he was immersed in, but the fact of the matter was the two almost-men were comfortable enough with each other to completely ignore said other's presence.

Huffing, and consequently blowing his bangs out of his goggled green eyes, Matt opened his mouth and said, "I," taking a short pause for dramatic reasons, "am an ass."

"You'll need an original sin for confession, Matt," Mello replied, seamlessly turning the page and taking a swig of the bottle of soda he'd snatched from Matt's hand, replacing it when he was done. "This is the point where I'd usually say, 'Tell me something I don't know,' but that's feeling a little cliché."

Pouting ever so subtly, the redhead turned to find a pair of baby blues glancing over at him. "You _suck_," he muttered, emphasizing the 'suck' and chugging the rest of the soda. "Can't you be a little supportive for once in your fucking life?"

Mello shrugged.

"I guess you don't really care about what I was gonna say, huh?"

Page turn. "Not one bit."

"Not even if I told you I was sick and tired of you and I was leaving?"

"You wouldn't leave. Correction: you _couldn't _leave. Dependency sucks, doesn't it?"

"I am not dependent!"

Mello's only response was to roll his eyes and go back to his magazine, bemused smile on his face. Having had enough of his jerkass of a best friend's arrogant behavior, Matt raised a hand and slapped the magazine to the floor. "What the hell?"

Before Mello could give his idiot the bitching of his life so far, there were hands on his face and a pair of dry, chapped, smoke-tinged lips pressing against his.

His brain promptly shut down.

When he felt Matt start to move back, his mind came back online and he grabbed a handful of red hair, yanked it toward him, and forced his way into Matt's mouth unrelentingly, drawing out the surprise kiss until he couldn't hold his breath any longer.

Red-faced and panting, the hacker stared wide-eyed at Mello with a sort of relieved disbelief. He honestly hadn't been expecting the other to respond beyond a slap to the face or, on a more painful level, a punch to the balls, so having the blond kiss him back was pretty much not in the original equation. As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, he reconsidered and clamped it closed, standing up before Mello said, "Sit your ass down," with which he complied.

For the next ten minutes or so, the atmosphere was indescribably tense. Mello leaned back against the armrest, arms crossed over his chest as he stared his partner down, and Matt looked away nervously, gnawing his bottom lip and thinking up one thousand and one excuses as to why he did what he just did.

After Mello deemed the tension period acceptable, he ran his tongue along his top lip and hummed. "Matt," he said emotionlessly, leading the addressed to become even more worried.

"Y-Yeah?" he stammered, twisting his hands in his lap.

Blink. "You need to brush your teeth."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **What's this? Moar shameless advertising?

"Un Beso Con Tú y Sólo Tú"

Spain, Romano, humor, stupidity, fluff, Romano's cynical little POV.

You know you want to. :)


	64. Touch

He _has _to touch it.

It's not just a want anymore; no, it's morphed into a need, an insatiable need that can't be fulfilled right now because there are too many people around. But that makes sense, because it's history class at Wammy's and he's supposed to be paying attention to whatever the fuck the teacher is droning on about. There's no real need, though, because he already knows everything he needs to.

Still.

Too damn many people! Why can't they all just fuck off and leave? At this rate, he'll have to wait until class lets out for the day and he can retreat to the semi-solitary bliss of his room, and he's not quite sure he can hold on for much longer.

God.

_God._

It's just… just _right there_, and he all has to do is fucking _touch it_, because he's about eighty-five percent sure that touching it will fix the problem. However, _there are too fucking many people around and that's posing an even bigger fucking problem_. He's not a modest person, but he does have enough modesty to not do what he wants in _public _because really, teenage geniuses shouldn't act like that.

Fucking hormones.

Fucking stupid ass goddamn piece of shit son of a bitch cocksucking _hormones_.

Out to ruin his life, they are.

He bites his bottom lip and his fingers twitch, eager to touch touch touch touch _touch_, and his mind's going off on tangents about how inappropriate, how wrong, how totally _un-fucking-cool _it would be to pull shit like that in the presence of others.

But _fuck_, he _has _to fucking _touch it_.

The teacher closes his book and dismisses the class, and he's so fucking thrilled he could kiss the man, his gladness increasing a few moments later when he notices that the object of his fascination, the one responsible for his current dilemma, is the only one left in the room with him.

Turning around in his seat, the other boy flashes him a smile and stands up, extending a hand which he takes hesitantly. He's pulled to his feet with an, "Alley-oop!" from the boy, only succeeding in making him blush.

Standing there in front of his 'problem,' he decides it's now or never and lifts a hand nervously, setting it back down on his friend's head and stroking the hair lovingly, carefully, purposefully, taking note of the slight flush on the other boy's cheeks.

It's soft. Soft, silky, shiny, and perfect.

Just like he'd imagined.

He exhales the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, threading his fingers into the glorious locks and unconsciously holding behind the teen's neck, rubbing his thumb over the other's jaw in little circle patterns.

His friend's lips quirk upward, easy smile settling on his face. "I think four years of unresolved sexual tension is enough, don't you?"

"Yeah," he replies, nodding. He spends a short period of time just holding his friend—or is it boyfriend, since they're aware of the other's feelings?—before swallowing thickly and clearing his throat. "Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"…your hair's really soft."


	65. Fangirls

Being in the vicinity of a squealing fangirl was never fun.

When that squealing fangirl was Linda, the OhFuckMyEardrumsAreBleeding only increased.

Toss Ellie into that mix, and the OFMEAB tripled.

But when the squealing fangirls included Linda, Ellie, Carrie, Valeria, Benny, Nadine, Marianne, Francine, Izzy, Willow, Paulina, Zada, Henrietta, Lucille, Tara, Quinn, Yolanda, Ophie, Jamie, Hannah, Kylie, and Jason, the token fanboy, decibels reached critical levels.

"Fucking shit!" Mello screamed, covering his ears as a loud, piercing 'EEEEEEEEEEEEE~!' resonated throughout the Wammy's common room and, more likely than not, all of Winchester. Cringing, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and gritted his teeth until he felt it was safe to uncover his ears with a shudder. "God damn it, I fucking hate females…"

Nestled into the couch with his feet propped up on the table, Matt turned the page of his manga with an uninterested, "Meh." Sniffing and rubbing his nose, he said, "We all knew Kurt and Blaine would get together eventually. It was a pretty cute scene, though."

"How would you know? You weren't even watching."

Matt pursed his lips and glanced sideways at his friend. "I _can_ see over the top of the manga, you know. I don't understand why you don't think that it was sweet or romantic."

"Because that's not how I operate," Mello replied, picking at his fingernails absently. "If I have 'feelings' for someone, I'll go up to them, grab behind their neck, and snog the ever-living fuck out of them. I don't _do_ romantic and sappy."

Snorting, Matt set his manga down and turned to face Mello, bemused smile occupying his face. "Go up to them, grab behind their neck, and snog the ever-living fuck out of them?" he asked teasingly, giving a short chuckle.

Mello nodded and shrugged. "Go up to them, grab behind their neck, and snog the ever-living fuck out of them."

"Like this?"

"Wha—" Suddenly there was a hand behind his neck and a pair of warm, dry, chapped lips on his, blue eyes wide in shock and frozen in place as the throng of girls (and Jason) erupted into a round of screams, whoops and cat-calls louder than the previous.

Letting a content sigh into the kiss, Matt tilted his head to the side and pressed more insistently, coaxing a reaction from his temperamental best friend; soon enough, Mello's thought processes kicked back in and he fisted a hand in shaggy red hair to pull the other teen closer to him.

Though it went unnoticed by the pair now making out no-holds-barred on the couch, Linda giggled and motioned toward the door, ushering everyone out of the common room and watching Quinn tape a sign to the door.

_**ATTENTION:**__  
DO NOT ENTER  
if not a fujoshi_

Grabbing Izzy's hand with a smile, Linda skipped off to her room with her roommate to look for her video camera.


	66. Dating

"Hey, Linda?" Matt asked, popping his head into Linda's room, where she and Ellie were busying themselves with artistic endeavors: Linda was painting, and Ellie was entertaining herself with a coloring book and crayons. "Can I ask you for some advice?"

Shocked that Matt came to _her _with his problems, Linda fumbled with her paintbrush and narrowly avoided dropping it on the floor. "Um, sure," she replied, blushing with embarrassment from almost getting paint on the carpet. "What is it you need?"

Matt sucked in a breath. "I wanted to know how to… tell someone I like them. Like, _like _them, like them. As more than a friend."

"Oh? Well, who do you like?"

Smiling uncomfortably, he muttered, "IthinkofMelsasmorethanafriend," and shoved his fingers into his ears.

. . .

A loud, piercing squeal tore through the general quiet tranquility of Wammy's, the newbies looking alarmed while the weathered veterans paid the shriek no mind and went on with their lives. Looking rather scared, Ophie tugged on Henrietta's sleeve and stuttered, "Wh-What was th-that noise?"

Turquoise eyes glanced down at the frightened ten-year-old as Henrietta replied, "Someone's just confessed to Linda that they're gay. It's nothing to be worried about."

"Oh," Ophie said in a small voice.

Smiling softly, Henrietta turned back to the cake batter she was mixing, tossing in some vanilla extract and whisking the fuck out of it. A few moments after the conversation ended, Ophie tugged on her sleeve again, green eyes wide with innocence.

"Henrietta, what does 'gay' mean?"

. . .

Once he'd figured it was safe, Matt pulled his fingers out of his ears and, after glancing over to see Ellie writhing on the floor from the sheer pitch of Linda's squee, said, "So, any suggestions? Should I tell him? Should I not? Should I ask him out? Should I just molest him and hope to survive the encounter? What?"

But Linda didn't respond, because the creepy little fucker was too busy gathering her video recording equipment to be arsed to answer Matt's question.

. . .

Mello's ass vibrated—please excuse the narrator as she busts up laughing—alerting him that he just received a new text. His phone's ID system told him it was Matt and, deeming Matt important enough to read a text from, he clicked 'open.'

_From: Matt_

_To: Mello_

_Meet me outside underneath the big tree, 'kay? :)_

He shrugged. Why not, right?

. . .

Pacing back and forth in front of the rendezvous tree, Matt nibbled on his thumbnail and waited for Mello to show up so he could just get this shit off his chest. One minute passed, then two, then three, then four, and then Mello came and stood by him.

"I'm here," he said, motioning with his arms in a way that said, 'Hell yeah, bitch, I've arrived.' "What did you want to say to me?"

Matt sucked in a breath and replied, "I maybe sorta kinda like as more than a friend and I wanted to know if you felt the same way and if you did then I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me and stuff because I really really really like you and I just had to tell you so it would stop bothering me."

Mello's only response was to blink a couple times before opening his mouth and saying, "Matt, I thought we were dating already?"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

Nodding, Mello shrugged and continued with, "We hold hands, I've taken you on plenty of dates, and hell, we sleep in the same fucking bed. Are you _that_ dense?"

"W-Well, excuse me for not knowing! It's not like you asked me to be your boyfriend!"

A sigh. "Fine. Matt, would you like to be my boyfriend?"

"Duh! Now kiss me, you asshole!"


	67. Dishwashing

"Terms of the bet," Mello said, adjusting his swim trunks and pulling back his hair, "are as follows: winner gets immunity, and loser has to wash the dishes like a good wifey. You game?"

Slipping out of his long-sleeved striped shirt, Matt chucked the garment aside and scoffed, replying, "Better grab your rubber gloves, blondie, 'cause you'll be elbows deep in soapy water in no time at all. I fully intend to win this. First person to come up for air loses, right?" He crossed his arms over his bare chest and smirked.

"Correct. Looks like smoking didn't help you here, Mattie," the blond shot back cockily, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend with a playful wink.

On the count of three, both jumped into the apartment complex pool, which was really fucking cold considering it was nighttime, and kept their heads underwater. Slowly, Mello opened his eyes—disregarding the sting of the chlorine—to see Matt's goggled green eyes practically grinning at him. _What an asshole._

Fifteen seconds into it, he was already plotting for Matt's downfall.

With stealth he usually reserved for midnight chocolate raids of the refrigerator, Mello swam forward, wrapped his arms around Matt's neck, and kissed him. Though initially shocked, Matt quickly moved his hands to his love's face and kissed him back eagerly. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty, a minute passed before the two went to take a breath, forgetting they were underwater…

…and came sputtering up to the surface. After spending little more than a couple of minutes hacking up their internal organs, they looked at each other and started cracking up, laughing at their stupidity and sharing a few small kisses in-between bouts of laughter.

"You lost," Matt teased, letting out a girlish giggle as Mello's lips grazed his cheek playfully before moving back to nip lightly at his nose.

"No," the blond replied, pressing his lips to Matt's for a moment, "you lost. I obviously came up after you did."

Matt sighed contentedly and allowed himself to be pulled into a wet and slippery hug. "Eh. If anything, we came up at the same time. How _ever _shall we resolve the issue at hand, my sweet?" he purred, smirking against Mello's earlobe. "I propose a compromise, dearest Mihael. You wash, I dry?"

A scoff. "I don't fucking think so, you sleazy ginger son of a bitch. _You _wash, _I _dry. Take it or leave it, and do realize that leaving it means you do it yourself while I sit on my ass and watch House piss people off and make an asshole of himself. It's up to you."

. . .

Grimacing disgustedly at the bowl in his hands, Matt said, "What the hell is _this _shit?" before inspecting the gooey mess and earning a whack on the ass from a dishtowel for his troubles.

"Focus on the task at hand, you scatterbrained dolt," Mello chided lightheartedly. "And it's that hummus we had from last week when your sister and my sister came over." It hadn't been a terrible time, but having your sisters over when all you wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with your boyfriend—and maybe make out for a little bit—was a pain in the ass. Misa and Heloise just didn't understand the whole 'damn it, you bitch, live your own life' thing.

Pouting, Matt picked up the sponge and made quick work of the hummus-influenced bowl, handing it off to Mello as if it were a practiced motion. But just to fuck with him a bit, the redhead scooped up some of the dish soap bubbles and threw them at his unsuspecting partner in crime, resulting in much cursing and a prompt bubble fight. At one point, Matt's half brother Light came in through the door to find two fully-grown men playing with soap bubbles, turning back around after deciding it was best to just leave and come back later.

Eventually the soap-flinging and giggle fits led to the completion of the dishes, but neither of the lovebirds gave a fuck to clean up the bubbly linoleum and just left it there, too absorbed in snuggling on the couch to give a real damn about anything else.

The funny thing?

Light never _did_ come back later.


	68. When Matt was

When Matt was little, he'd always imagined that his first kiss would be super duper romantic—it'd be with the girl he loved, on a beach, and it would be raining because that's romantic, right? He'd tell Mello all the time about his future plans, and Mello would scoff, call him a sissy, and pull him into a tighter hug.

When Matt was a little older, he started to realized that he didn't want to have his first kiss with the girl he loved, on a beach, in the rain; he wanted to have his first kiss with _Mello_, on a beach, in the rain. Well, maybe not on a beach, in the rain, but just with Mello—didn't matter where or in what weather, he just wanted it to be totally romantic.

When Matt was fifteen, his dream of having his first kiss with Mello was slowly becoming nearly impossible, as Mello had left Wammy's after learning that L was dead and Matt had stayed at the orphanage like the pissy blond had demanded of him. He always had been referred to as "Mello's puppy," and that kinda sucked because puppies weren't supposed to kiss their masters like they were equals. So he picked up a cigarette, stopped paying attention in class, and stopped giving a shit.

When Matt was nineteen, Mello called and told him that he blew himself half to hell, conveniently leaving out the part where he hopped his leather-clad ass onto his bike and headed over to the apartment Matt was staying in that Mello shouldn't have had the address of. A knock on the door told Matt to open it, and, seeing Mello standing there, all leather, burns, and sex appeal, he realized that he was in love with his best friend.

When Matt was nineteen, he finally decided he was tired of waiting. He grabbed Mello by the wrist, pulled him inside the apartment, closed the door, slammed the blond against it, and kissed the _fuck _out of him. Really, he had no fucking clue _what _the hell he was doing or how the fuck you were supposed to kiss someone, but it must've been okay because Mello fisted a gloved hand in shaggy red hair and all but raped his mouth with his tongue. There was no confession, no loving words at all, because both were painfully aware of the other's feelings.

(He swore up a storm at Mello, though, and he just held Matt while he sobbed pathetically into his chest. The crying episode was agreed never to be spoken of again.)

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he slid into his trusty red Camaro, telepathically sent an _I love you_ to Mello, and popped a cig into his mouth before starting the engine and speeding out of the parking lot, Mello riding his motorcycle close behind him. He did as Mello had instructed him: fire the smoke grenade at NHN Studios, drive off, evade the bodyguards.

(Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan, and he found himself with his hands up and surrounded by a fuckload of bodyguards with gun barrels pointed straight at him.)

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he tried cracking jokes with the bodyguards of Kira's spokesperson; unfortunately, they didn't find him very funny and threatened to shoot him on the spot simply for, in so many words, being a fucking asshole shithead that tried to be a comedian when he probably shouldn't have.

(It wasn't his fault that his way of feeling confident involved being passive-aggressive and snarky. He blamed it on having to room with Mello at a young age.)

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he was shot many, many, many times by the bodyguards of Kira's spokesperson, and if it didn't hurt so fucking much he probably would've laughed because he had had a sneaking suspicion that things would turn out that way. But he'd pretty much known that he'd die when Mello first showed up at his apartment, all leather, burns, and sex appeal.

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he was shot many, many, many times by the body guards of Kira's spokesperson, and used his last fleeting moments to reminisce about his unusually shitty life—losing his parents, being stuck in a room with Mello, falling in love with the bastard, finally kissing the asshole after wanting to for at least fourteen years.

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he was slumped over on the ground, bleeding out like a motherfucker and taking a few shuddering breaths. His thoughts whizzed by in his head, but one particular one stuck out more than the others, and Matt realized belatedly that it would be one thing he'd die while regretting: _Fuck, I'm still a virgin._

When Matt was nineteen, just six days away from turning twenty, he died…

…a virgin.

* * *

**Author's Note: **God, I feel so twisted. I tried mixing humor and angst and this is what I get in return. FFFFFFFF…

I have a question for you:

What do you think of me? Be honest, even if it's not nice. I just wanna know. :)


	69. TWU WUV

"What the hell are you doing, Matt?"

"Rethinking my goals in life and reevaluating the appropriate courses of action for each individual goal."

"…while hanging upside down off the edge of the bed?"

"It's how I think. Ya got a problem with that?"

"Whatever problem I may have, you'll just blow the fuck off. So no, I have no problems with it. I would, however, suggest that you stop searching self-help books online. You've become a square."

"Oh, my dear Mello, I can assure you that I am the farthest from square you can find; so far, in fact, I could be classified as a circle."

"If you keep hoarding Doritos and root beer like you do, you _will _be a circle. Get your hand out of the chip bag, ass."

"Heh. Weight jokes. Really mature, Mels."

"You love it."

"More than I'd like to admit. Can you get the remote for me? I can't reach it."

Mello threw the remote at Matt's head, bouncing it off his skull with a _donk_.

"Thanks," Matt replied weakly, rubbing his head and glaring. _Asshole…_


	70. Sarcasm

Panicked, I tore through our apartment and searched every nook and cranny, turning up nothing. "Mels, have you seen my glasses?" I called out, lifting up a couch cushion before swearing profusely when I found _shit_ beneath it. "I really need them!"

"Did you try the nightstand?" I could _hear _the 'dumbass' tacked onto the end of that sentence.

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and replied, "That was the first place I looked, dude. I just can't seem to find them anywhere!"

After a huff and a string of what was probably words of the not-so-nice variety, Mello walked out of the bedroom and glared at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "Really, Matt?"

"What?" I answered, blinking a few times.

He rolled his eyes. "They're on top of your head, stupid."

Disbelievingly, I patted the top of my head and, indeed, found my glasses perched imperceptibly (at least to me. Shut up) on my hair. "Oh. Oops."

Mello pointed a ruler he grabbed off the floor at me and said, "At the end of this ruler is an idiot."

"Which end?" I retorted thoughtlessly, finding myself on my back with a ruler-shaped mark on my forehead before I could say, 'I'm sorry.' I rubbed my forehead and looked up to see a rather pissed-off Mello death-staring me. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sleeping on the couch."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I have a bit of an announcement regarding my character guide: I am in need of some original characters to participate in a character breakdown segment. You will be credited and I will not bash your characters; I simply want to have a few examples and using only my own characters comes off as bias. Just drop a review on the character guide (Hungary's Guide to Successful Original Characters) that has basic information such as appearance, age, name(s), personality, and a quick back-story. The more information, the easier it is for me.

Thanks.

P.S. I'm going on vacation starting next Friday, and I'll be gone until the 24th of July. If possible, I'll try to set something up with my best friend to where she can post pre-written chapters and such on a schedule. Don't count on it, though.


	71. Babysitting

If there was anything Matt Jeevas hated the most, even more than the damn 'great outdoors,' it was babysitting his nightmare of a little brother, Kyle. Not only was Kyle a brat, but he was a _genius_ brat, and one that could make Matt's life a living hell if he didn't give the kid what he wanted and _fast_. Because of this, they rarely—if ever—got along well, and the ten year age difference certainly didn't help the matter.

**Matt Jeevas **is stuck babysitting his terrorist—i mean, little brother. *weep*

**Matt Jeevas **my life sucks so hard. like seriously.

**Jason Cipriani **it cant b that bad, rite? ur still alive.

**Matt Jeevas **but that's the best of it. it's friday AND my birthday and i'm stuck watching the twerp. wtf

**Matt Jeevas **freakin' hate my parents right now. *le sigh*

**Jason Cipriani **oh. well. i dont no wat 2 say 2 that.

**Jason Cipriani **maybe u shud just try 2 have fun. u can do it.

**Jason Cipriani **shoot. g2g.

Matt typed 'later' and sent it, closing out Facebook afterward and looking over his shoulder at where Kyle was seated in front of the television and working on his life-size LEGO model of the Mars Rover _Opportunity_. Rolling his eyes, Matt shut the lid of his laptop and stood up, stretched, and reseated himself on the couch behind his brother. Oh well. At least something interesting was on television.

Not that Matt could see past Kyle's big-ass head, though, but it was the principle of the thing.

Just as soon as Matt had gotten himself comfortable, the phone rang, which Kyle stretched back to try to reach only to have his older brother smack his hand away and growl, "_No_." Death-glaring Kyle while blue-green eyes pouted back at him, Matt answered the phone with a, "Yo."

"Matt?" the voice on the other line asked, causing Matt to flush and fumble retardedly with the phone. Kyle just laughed into his fist.

"Um, hey, Mello," he replied hesitantly, twirling a chunk of red hair around his finger and smiling uneasily. "What's up?"

A sigh, then, "What's _up_ is that I have two tickets to the movies and no best friend to go with. Why the _fuck_ are you still at home? You were _supposed_ to meet me here _half an hour ago_. Your birthday only comes once a year, asshole, and _hell_ if I'm gonna let you spend it at _home_. Get _off_ your ass, shut _down_ the video games, and _get_ over here."

"I would if I could," Matt started, "but I can't, so I won't. I got saddled with diaper duty—" here Kyle muttered to himself that he wasn't a baby, "—so I'm stuck here _all night, _or at least 'til my parents get back, which is usually around ten. Sorry."

Mello was silent for a moment. "_Damn_," he said and audibly slumped onto a bench, probably outside the movie theater as they spoke. "Well. I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Okay." Defeated, Matt hung up the phone and narrowed his eyes at Kyle. "You're ruinin' my life, ya little _twit_. What kinda parents make their kid stay home on his freakin' _birthday _and watch his little brother?"

"Ours," Kyle answered.

"Shut your mouth."

Forty minutes after Mello called, the doorbell rang and Matt jumped to his feet to answer it, ready to give the pizza guy the ass-whooping of his life for being seven minutes late. But when he opened it, he found Mello instead of the pizza guy, and visibly relaxed.

"Hey," Mello said, brushing some snow off his shoulder. "Can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there all night looking like an idiot?"

Pulled out of his trance, Matt turned red and stuttered out an apology before stepping aside and letting the blond in. Getting a hold of himself, Matt asked, "What the hell are ya doin' here?"

"It's your birthday." Mello shrugged. "Why should it be miserable? I brought over some movies and shit to pass the time, too." He took off his coat and tossed it on the back of the couch as Matt just stood there and gaped dumbly, in shock that Mello cared enough to spend the night with him and help him watch Kyle.

"Are you brother's girlfriend or something?" Kyle asked, staring up at Mello and tilting his head to the side.

He forced a smile. "Of course not, you _little ball of sunshine_. I'm Matt's best friend."

"But you have long hair and you kinda look like a girl!"

Kneeling down, Mello patted his reddish-brown hair a little harder than was necessary, smiled a smile that showcased almost all his teeth, and said, "And your head is too damn big for your body. So shut up." Standing back up, he threw Matt a Look and gritted out, "I understand why you never invited me over when he was home."

"Now ya feel my pain, dude."

"Yeah. Pain, my _ass_. Nothing's worse than a menstruating Misa. _Nothing_. At all. I'd rather have my fingernails torn off one by one than deal with her during her 'week.' Blech," Mello replied, making a face and shuddering. Clapping his hands together, he looked at Matt expectantly. "So. What're we gonna do first? Hang your brother by his toes? Call for pizza? Watch scary movies?"

Matt laughed, warm fuzzies collecting in his stomach when Mello slung an arm around his shoulders. "As much as I'd enjoy hangin' him upside down, my parents would freakin' kill me, so that's out. I already called for pizza, and they're late, so we're still waitin' on that. So... scary movies it is. Which ones did you bring?"

Mello removed his arm from Matt's shoulders and reached into the plastic grocery bag he'd brought with him, extracting four movies. "I've got _Psycho_, _Poltergeist_, _The Exorcist_,and _Silence of the Lambs_. It's up to you to pick which one to watch first."

"Um," Matt said dumbly, tapping his foot. "I guess we'll watch _Poltergeist _first. I'll go get popcorn while ya set it up."

"Okay. What about your brother?" Mello asked, switching the television to DVD mode.

The redhead just waved it off and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of the pantry and popping it into the microwave. "If he gets too scared, he'll just leave and go to his room. All he does up there is make LEGO sculptures and stuff like that. He's, like, five. There's not much for him to do around here that he could get in trouble for."

Right after the popcorn was ready, the doorbell rang again and Mello answered it, finding a very, very late pizza delivery guy and taking the pizza from him, citing their 'thirty minutes or it's free' policy and refusing to pay. With a sarcastic goodbye, he shut the door and set the pie down on the coffee table in front of the television, calling for any takers—Kyle came over and grabbed two slices, then scurried back to his spot just to the left of the screen.

As soon as the movie started, Matt turned off the lights and sat on the cushion next to Mello, putting a good foot of space between them; however, about a quarter of the way through the movie, long after Kyle had proclaimed his boredom and headed upstairs, he had somehow scooted closer and closer, only a few inches separating them now.

Until Kyle sneaked back downstairs close to the end of the movie to mess with his older brother.

He tiptoed behind him before tapping his shoulder and saying, "Boo!"

Matt screamed and flung the popcorn bowl upward, jumping and clutching onto Mello like his life depended on it, breathing shallow and forced. Green eyes wide and paralyzed in shock, he failed to notice that Mello was not shaking with fear and was actually laughing at him, doing nothing to stifle it at all. Once he realized this, he pushed the other away and moved back to the other cushion, arms crossed over his chest and looking put-off.

"Oh, come off it," Mello said, patting his thigh and making him jump again. "If it's too scary, just say so."

"Ya think I can't handle it? That I'm a wimp? Fan-fuckin'-tastic. Just fan-fuckin'-tastic, Mels. I can't wait for word to spread at school sayin' I'm afraid of horror movies."

Mello sighed, rolled his blue eyes, and offered him a genuine, true smile. "Damn, you know I wouldn't do that. And to be honest, I don't even _like _scary movies. Wanna guess what type of entertainment I actually enjoy?"

"Action movies?" Matt guessed, wondering why he didn't know in the first place.

"Nope."

"Comedy?"

"Sorta. But no."

"R-Romantic comedy?"

"Ew. No."

Close to giving up, Matt made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and said, "Then what?"

By that point, Mello had the type of grin that Kyle called the 'cat ate the canary' grin. "Cartoons. I fucking _love _cartoons—always have, always will. In fact..." He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched the television back to cable, flipping through the guide until he found what he wanted. "..._Phineas and Ferb _is on right now. Wanna watch?"

"Can't. I have to clean up the popcorn Kyle made me spill. Ya can help if ya wanna, but it's not necessary."

"Four hands work faster than two."

Matt just shrugged and got down on his hands and knees, picking up popcorn pieces and dumping them into the bowl. Of course, the Fates hated him and made it so that he and Mello reached for the same piece, which only made things more awkward until the tension was broken by the ringing of the phone. Inwardly, Matt thanked God a million times over and picked up the phone. "Joe's Crematorium—you kill 'em, we grill 'em. How may I help ya?"

"I'd like to take advantage of your two for one special, sir," a familiar voice answered, causing a smile to break out on Matt's face. "And also, if possible, I'd like to request an upgrade from Tupperware to an urn. Whatever the nicest one you have is."

"Hey, Hel," Matt replied, laughing at his older sister. "What's shakin'?"

She giggled, and Matt could imagine her hanging upside down off her bed like she always did when she talked on the phone. "Just wanted to call and wish my darling baby brother a happy birthday." A whistle. "Fifteen, huh? You're getting up there in age, aren't you? Next thing you know, you'll be packing up for college. My, how time flies."

"You sound like Mom."

"It's a blessing and a curse. So what's new?"

Matt shrugged, humming while he thought. "Nothin' much. Just waitin' for freshman year to wind down to an end so I can cease bein' a damn _bucket_. Oh, I'll be gettin' my Learner's Permit soon, too."

"That's great! I wish I could rush there so I could hug you, but alas, I'm stuck in my dorm because of this crazy snow. So..." She took a pause that Matt decidedly did _not _like. "...how are things going with you-know-who?"

"_H-Heloise_!"

Laughing, Heloise Jeevas shifted on her bed, springs creaking, and replied, "Is he right there, or something?"

"_Yes_! A-And it's not like my feelings matter, anyway, 'cause I know h—_they _don't like me back! It's forever doomed to be a one-sided thing, and I've just accepted that. So, please, drop it."

Heloise sighed. "You're such a pessimist, Mattie. Misa and I are tighter than _spandex_, and she says that there's a damn good chance that he _does_ have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. Why not just give it a chance? Roll the dice, honey; after all, life _is_ a game of chance."

"Well, I'm consistently unlucky when it comes to shit like that, so I'd rather not go for it and just take what I got and roll with it. There are some things in life that just aren't worth screwin' up; _this _bein' one of 'em."

Shifting the phone to her other ear, Heloise said, "Maybe he'll make the first move, then, because _something_—and even though I'm not entirely sure _what_, I know that _something—_will happen eventually whether you like it or not. Why not take the reigns and control your destiny?"

"Ya need to stop readin' fortune cookies," Matt deadpanned. "Besides, I _can't _do it."

"A majority of the word 'can't' is 'can,' sweet pea."

"Seriously, lay off the Chinese food. I ain't kiddin'."

Meanwhile, Mello laughed his ass off in the background as he finished cleaning up the spilled popcorn, waiting for Matt to finish with the phone so they could hang out some more. Checking the clock, he noticed it was around nine-thirty—Kyle's Friday night bedtime. He set the bowl of floor-popcorn on the coffee table and headed upstairs to toss Kyle's snarky little ass in bed, but found him sitting at the top of the stairs. "Let's go," he said, motioning to the boy's room. "Bed."

"You have a crush on brother, don't you?" Kyle asked as he was escorted to his room, causing Mello to stop in the doorway while Kyle passed him and seated himself on his bed.

"What the hell makes you say that?" Mello replied, more out of shock than anger, moving inside the room to sit down in the chair in front of Kyle's desk. "I gave you this speech when I first showed up: we're just _friends_. Nothing more."

Kyle grabbed his favorite stuffed dinosaur and hugged it tightly. "I see the way you look at him, and it looks just like the way Mommy and Daddy look at each other. And Mommy said that when two people feel like that, they get to hold hands, and hug, and even _kiss_," here he giggled like the five-year-old he was, "because they really, really like each other. Kinda like how you like brother!"

"Slow down, pal," Mello said, holding his hands out defensively. "I don't love Matt!"

"I didn't say _love_, silly, I said _like_!"

Mello turned red, standing up with a scowl on his face. "Shut up and go to bed, damn it," he said, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. He stormed down the stairs, coming face-to-face with a confused Matt holding his cell phone.

"Uh, thanks for that," Matt said, eyebrows furrowing to the point where they almost kissed. "Anyway, my mom just texted me sayin' they'd be home in about ten minutes, so ya should prob'ly go home now. Wouldn't want 'em knowin' I had someone over when I was s'posed to be watchin' Kyle."

For a few awkward moments, they just stared at each other silently, until Mello broke it by saying, "Yeah, okay. I, uh, understand. I guess I'll see you at school on Monday?"

Matt nodded, following Mello to the door and handing him his coat and his bag of movies. "Yeah, I'll see ya then. Later."

One foot out the door, Mello snapped his fingers and turned around again. "Damn, I almost forgot..." he said, trailing off and looking at Matt seriously.

"Forgot what?"

"This." Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, Mello grabbed his friend behind the neck and kissed him firmly, waited with bated breath for a few seconds before releasing him and pulling back. "So, uh, happy birth—_mmph_."

Almost desperately, Matt grabbed a fistful of Mello's shirt and cemented their lips together, heart pounding in his ears and eyes shut impossibly tightly, lest he open his eyes and find that it was just a dream. When he'd finally pulled back, he pointedly looked away but kept his hand clenched onto Mello's shirt as if it were a lifeline. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Couldn't help myself."

Mello's response was to thread a hand into his hair and pull him in for another, this one much less awkward and one-sided. When he moved back, Matt had a small smile on his face that Mello couldn't help but mirror. "Me either." He thumbed over his shoulder at the open door. "But I really should be going. My mom's probably wondering where the hell I am since I neglected to let her know I was going out tonight."

"Yeah, I get it. Ya'd better run home, then... but don't slip and fall, though; don't want ya hurtin' yourself," Matt replied, letting go of Mello and practically pushing him out the front door. "Text me later, 'kay?"

"I will. See ya."

Matt waved at him as he rushed home, closing the door and failing to keep the wide grin threatening to take over from doing just that, and cheered silently for himself. Still grinning, he laid down on the couch and just stared at the ceiling, eagerly awaiting Mello's text; when his parents came home a few minutes later, they found him in the same location.

"Sweetie?" his mom said softly.

He sat up. "Yeah?"

"Your father and I are sorry for making you babysit Kyle on your birthday, and we completely understand if you're upset with us. If you'd like, we can do whatever you'd like tomorrow in exchange for taking up your birthday night," she said, sitting next to him and petting his hair.

"Actually," Matt started, smile widening, "tonight was one of the best birthdays I've ever had."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it? But that's okay, because this bitch is over 3,000 words, which is pretty much the equivalent of six 500-word chapters.

Equivalent exchange, darlings. :)

I love you all, and thanks a bunch for all the support I've gotten so far. May your lives be fun, full, and unforgettable, because you've made my time here on FanFiction exactly that.


	72. Maybe

"Hey, Matt!" Linda said, showing off her new cocktail dress she bought especially to get Matt to notice her for once. "Do you like my new dress? Isn't it beautiful?"

Without missing a beat, Matt looked up from his handheld and shrugged, replying, "Yeah, I guess it's nice. A little skimpy, though; ya wouldn't want anyone gettin' the wrong idea about ya. So ya might wanna just hike up the front a bit."

Disappointed, Linda slinked away and sat on the couch in the common room, pouting. What about her was turning him off? What was _not _to like about Leondrea Dubois, easily the sweetest girl at Wammy's House and the most liked person in the whole house? Maybe he just didn't like her dress... or maybe... Gasping, Linda clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around the room.

Maybe Matt was _gay_!

"Mace!" she called out, scurrying over to where Mace was—knelt on the floor in front of the bookshelf and rearranging the books by title and author—and plopping down next to him. "Can I ask a favor of you, oh dear friend of mine?"

Mace stopped abruptly, a copy of _Dracula _still in his hand as he turned to give Linda a suspicious look. "What do you want?" he asked, wary of her true intentions because she only used the 'my dear friend' shtick when she wanted something odd, personal, or embarrassing.

Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, Linda leaned in and whispered, "I need you to go hit on Matt," into his ear.

He promptly flushed. "Wh-What the hell is _wrong_ with you? I can't hit on _Matt_! That's just... just... _wrong_!"

"Why not?"

The flush darkened considerably as Mace averted his gaze from Linda and found a fuzzy on the carpet incredibly interesting. "Because I don't _like_ him, stupid. And I don't lead people on if I don't like them because I'm not an _asshole_."

Linda tilted her head to the side. "But you hit on Jason all the time, and you don't—oh, my _god_," she said when Mace turned another shade of red darker. "You like _Jason_, don't you?"

"Don't say it so loud!" he whisper-yelled before hiding his face in his hands, ashamed and mortified that Linda, the house blabbermouth, knew about his little crush. The only thing he could do now was hope to hell that Linda kept her damn big mouth shut about it and word never reached Jason; the last thing he wanted was to lose him as a friend.

"Well, then maybe I'll just tell him..."

Defeated, Mace sighed and looked up from his hands. "Fine, you win. I'll do it; I won't like it, but I'll do it. I hope you're happy, damn it."

"I will be. Now go!"

Muttering German curses under his breath as he walked over to Matt, Mace mentally prepared himself for the torture that would befall him and hoped to God that Jason was nowhere nearby. "Uh, hey," he said awkwardly, having no idea how to even hit on someone. With Jason, it was natural; he'd never tried putting the moves on someone else. "What's up?"

"Boss fight," Matt replied, mashing buttons thoughtlessly. "Ya want somethin' from me?"

"Not really. So, you're, uh, pretty good at video games, huh?"

Matt gave him a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow. "Ya would be too if ya played 'em all damn day. Now seriously, do ya want somethin'?"

"Do you wanna go out sometime?" Mace blurted, regretting in instantly. _Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say no..._

"Uh, no. Not really. Do ya mind? I'm tryin' to beat this level."

Victorious, Mace walked back to Linda, growled out, "Happy?" and began rearranging the bookshelf again.

Just then, the common room doors burst open and Mello strode through them, barefoot and shirtless with his hair tied back in a Lazy Saturday Morning Ponytail. He scratched his cheek a few times before sitting down next to Matt like he owned the place. "Morning."

Interested, Linda watched as Matt's cheeks reddened and he stuttered out, "G-Good mornin'. H-How are ya t-today?"

"Fine. Just couldn't find any clean shirts when I woke up. So I just said fuck it and went without."

Trying not to enjoy the view, Matt cleared his throat and said, "Why didn't ya just borrow one of mine?"

Mello made a face. "Because they all fucking smell like _geek_. Not that I necessarily _mind_ the smell—" Matt looked hopeful, "—but it just doesn't suit me."

In the background, Linda smiled deviously as she realized what Matt's suddenly awkward behavior meant and devised a plan to get him to confess his feelings out loud. But not today, because there was too much ground to cover in only so much time, and she'd much rather give her hot new dress the Wammy's walk-around in hopes that _someone _noticed her.

She left the room the minute Matt started losing at his game because Mello rested his chin on Matt's shoulder.

* * *

**Author's Note: **If you like mystery stories, I've got a _Death Note_/Nancy Drew series crossover up. It's completely written and posts once a month on the third Monday. Mostly it's a mystery/drama, but there's some humor in it from the crazy Wammy's kids that are Nancy's top contact for the case.

The title is "The Nabbing in New York," and I'd love it if you just checked it out; you don't have to review or tell me you liked it if you don't want to, but it'd be cool if you maybe just read a little bit. Advice is _muy _welcome, too, since it's not often that I actually write mystery stories.


	73. TiK ToK

**Author's Note: **Don't kill me. I was just having fun. But damn, Matt's life _sucks_.

* * *

Wake up in the morning  
Feelin' mighty shitty  
Grab my goggles, head down the stairs  
Don't give a fuck 'bout the city

After I eat, brush my teeth  
Down a bottle of Jack  
It's more fun bein' drunk  
When you're tryin' to hack

I'm talkin'

Head-deskin' all day long, long  
Rewriting this fuckin' song, song  
Wishin' I had a bong, bong

Oh, fuck yeah

Doin' shit I won't regret, gret  
Smokin' my cigarettes, rettes  
This is the absolute worst day yet...

My life sucked  
I was fucked  
And it hasn't changed that much  
Got a job  
With the mob  
And a roommate that's a slob  
It doesn't kill  
But bloody hell  
It at least helps pay the bills, oh

It's routine  
A daily thing  
Doesn't mean it still don't sting  
I just sit  
And take the shit  
And just go and roll with it  
It's not much  
Sucks a bunch  
But it helps me afford lunch, oh

Ain't got a care in the world  
But got plenty of ale  
At this point in my life  
I'm shocked I'm not in jail

Even as a child  
I was a hacking master  
Could empty accounts in minutes  
And now I'm even faster

I'm talkin' 'bout

Screwin' lotsa people over  
Relocating operations to Dover  
Always careful to look over my shoulder

Now, now

I work well into the night, night  
Runnin' on sweets and Sprite, Sprite  
Runnin' on sweets and Sprite, Sprite  
It keeps me up all—

My life sucked  
I was fucked  
And it hasn't changed that much  
Got a job  
With the mob  
And a roommate that's a slob  
It doesn't kill  
But bloody hell  
It at least helps pay the bills, oh

It's routine  
A daily thing  
Doesn't mean it still don't sting  
I just sit  
And take the shit  
And just go and roll with it  
It's not much  
Sucks a bunch  
But it helps me afford lunch, oh

I fuck things up  
Take businesses down  
I'm untraceable; you won't catch me

I'll never be caught  
'Cause I always win  
There's this little thing  
They call 'cheating'

I fuck things up  
Take businesses down  
I'm untraceable; you won't catch me

I'll never be caught  
It's what I was taught  
Well, among a lot

Now the chaos don't start 'til I hack in

My life sucked  
I was fucked  
And it hasn't changed that much  
Got a job  
With the mob  
And a roommate that's a slob  
It doesn't kill  
But bloody hell  
It at least helps pay the bills, oh

It's routine  
A daily thing  
Doesn't mean it still don't sting  
I just sit  
And take the shit  
And just go and roll with it  
It's not much  
Sucks a bunch  
But it helps me afford lunch, oh


	74. Sorta kinda

"Hey, Matt," Linda said suddenly one day at lunch and Matt, against his better judgment, looked up to see Linda with a wolfish grin on her face and a hand extended. "Want a marshmallow?"

Matt blushed. Damn. "No. I don't."

"Oh. Okay. So, I noticed that you've been rather mellow these last couple of days. Any real reason why? Maybe you have a crush, or you got a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a new video game, or something cool..." She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows at the flushed redhead suggestively. "What is it?"

He gulped, pausing his game and setting his handheld on the table nervously. "N-None of the above. I just thought it'd be nice to take things slow, y'know?"

Linda wasn't giving up. "But you always take things slow. You can't possibly want to take things _slower_, can you? You should try something fun, like watching sports. Do you like watching sports?"

"Occasionally."

"Well, that's a start," Linda replied, twirling a pigtail. "I was actually watching a basketball game the other day and noticed that Carmelo Anthony was doing rather well for himself." When Matt's eyes widened and he gave the most imperceptible glance down the table to where Mello sat surrounded in books, Linda added, "Really, _really _well."

Sighing, Matt dropped his head and said, "I know you're up to somethin'. What do ya want, Linda?"

"Oh, nothing much," she started, twiddling her thumbs. "Just... you."

He sighed again. "We've been over this, okay? I don't like ya like—"

"...to _confess_."

"What?"

"To _Mello_."

Spluttering indignantly, Matt struggled to get out, "I don't like him, damn it!" as Linda looked on knowingly and waggled her eyebrows again. "Seriously, he's my fuckin' best friend! I don't like him like that! God!"

But the blush on his face told Linda all she needed to know.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is a follow-up of chapter 72.

By the way... do you wanna hear me sing? I recorded the song from the last chapter as well as my version of "We R Who We R," which was a raging song about going to school sick and the consequences for those of us who don't want to get sick, and they can be found at the links below.

Le TiK, Le ToK: www(.)mediafire(.)com / ?zx8o6fjrsr7sfz4

In Bed's Where I R: www(.)mediafire(.)com / ?2kmnf9yj586e6p1

I'm warning you now that there _is _strong language, but what did you expect from me?

Just take out the parentheses and the spaces and copy 'em into the URL box. Oh, and have fun with my shitty, autotune-less singing!


	75. Okay, fine

It happened in sequence. One right after the other.

Mello entered the room.

Matt stood up and walked toward the door.

Linda put a hand on top of his head and turned him around.

"You're going to tell him, _today_, that you like him," Linda said firmly, determined facial expression set and unwavering. "If you don't, well..." She waggled her eyebrows deviously. "It'd be a shame if that beloved PSP of yours 'accidentally' fell into the toilet, wouldn't it?"

Matt gulped, but responded, "Th-That's blackmail."

"I call it incentive, but hey, you say it your way, I'll say it mine. So. You game?"

"But what if he doesn't like me back?" Matt asked, biting his bottom lip. "What if he hates me? What if he doesn't wanna be my friend anymore? What if the world _explodes_ because I ridiculously fucked up and God reigns terror upon the earth?"

Before he could add anything else, Linda cut him off and said, "What if you shut the heck up and actually gave it a chance? What's the worst that could happen?"

"The world expl—"

"_Go_."

Defeated, Matt cried inside as he walked over to where Mello stood at the bookshelf, pulling out books and setting them down willy-nilly if he didn't feel like reading them. He sucked in a breath and tapped on Mello's shoulder, narrowly avoiding the backhanded fist—a natural reflex—that followed. "Um, hey, Mello," he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "Can I tell ya somethin'?"

"Knock yourself out," Mello replied.

"I, um, maybe, sorta kinda, uh," he rambled, rubbing his upper arm nervously. "I k-kinda... like ya. Like, _like _ya. As, uh, more than just a friend. Yeah. That's the ticket. Heh."

All too slowly, Mello turned around and raised an eyebrow at Matt. "Okay."

Matt almost fell over. "O-Okay? That's all ya have to say?"

Mello furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay, _Matt_?" he said confusedly, shaking his head a bit. "It's not like I like you back. Don't get too excited."

"I'm not excited. Nope, not at all," Matt said quickly, blinking back tears. "Totally cool. Not crushed _at all_. Yeah. I'll just, uh, go back to what I was doin' before. Yup. Totally fine. Takin' it like a man."

Back in the corner, Linda was slack-jawed as a shot-down Matt slumped toward her and dropped his head on her shoulder, weeping. "Well," she managed to say after overcoming the shock. "I wasn't expecting _that_."

"I knew he didn't like me back!" Matt wailed, squeezing Linda mercilessly. "That's why I didn't wanna say anythin'!"

"I don't believe it."

Lifting his head, Matt looked over Linda's shoulder and said, "What?"

"I refuse to lose," Linda replied, wrapping her arms around Matt's back and hugging him. "Mello _will _like you back if it's the last thing I do. And I know just how to do it..."

Linda pulled Matt off of her and hooked arms with him, strutting out the door confidently and whispering into Matt's ear. He nodded and, loudly enough for Mello to hear, said, "You're right, Linda; I guess he wasn't the right one for me. Ya sure are a great friend."

"I know," she replied, equally as loud. "Now let's go hang out together."

The sound of a book tearing in half was indication enough that pretending to be Matt's new B.F.F. was a good place to start.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And so Linda's trilogy ends, but a new one will begin—in collaboration with Linda, Henrietta's on a mission to help prompt more jealousy over Linda and Matt's new "relationship." The drama unfolds next time!


	76. Voicemail

**Author's Note: **I LIED.

SO YOU GET CRACK WHILE I PLAN OUT HENRIETTA'S TRILOGY.

ILU ALL.

*le kiss kiss*

* * *

_'Hi, you've reached Matt's phone. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, and an interesting message, I just might return your call. Onward, knave!'_

Mello rolled his eyes—Matt was a right dork sometimes, and damn if it wasn't the most endearing thing ever—and waited patiently for the simulated female voice to shut the fuck up and play the beep already. "Hey, it's me," he finally said after the beep. "Call me back soon, you asshole. I'll be waiting." Satisfied, he hung up the phone and tossed it onto the table of the coffee shop he was sitting in before grabbing a few napkins and making origami to pass the time.

Five minutes later, which was four minutes and forty-five seconds late in Mello-time, Matt hadn't called back yet.

Slightly frustrated (and a bit worried; don't tell anyone), Mello picked up his phone again and hit redial, tapping his fingertips on the table impatiently as the ringing continued. He growled to himself as the message recording said, 'Onward, knave!' and once again waited for the beep. "Matt, pick the fucking phone up. I mean it. If you don't, know that I will be home to throttle your skinny white ass later. Good-fucking-bye."

And so the phone was dropped back on the table and Mello went back to his origami napkin Lady Gaga. After another five minutes, Mello gritted his teeth and punched the redial button so hard it cried out bloody murder and wept as he lifted the phone to his ear. He had half a mind to just scream his lungs out, but since he was in public and attracting attention to oneself in public is never a good thing he decided to just take a calming breath and once a-fucking-gain wait for the stupid beep.

This was getting fucking _ridiculous_.

"For the _love _of _God_," Mello said through clenched teeth, "_pick up _the _fucking _phone, Mail Jeremiah Jeevas, or I _will _have your _ass _on a _platter _later. I am _so _fucking _serious _that I'm about to place an order to my de-assing guy. _Answer_. _The_. _Phone_."

The phone, a poor, weather-beaten, tortured flip phone, was slammed shut and dropped onto the table for the third time, where it prayed to Motorola and LG that its time would come soon; it wasn't sure if it could handle any more of Mello's rage. It wanted nothing more than to ring, so as to be spared for another day, but the Fates seemed to be against it that day.

Still, Matt never called back.

And boy, did the messages get intense.

The fifth time: "You are _so fucking dead_ to me, Mail _motherfucking_ Jeevas, and I will _never_ let you live this day down. You _will_ be sleeping on the couch for so _fucking_ long that your _ass_ will leave even _more_ of a permanent imprint than it already _does_. _Fuck_ you, call me back. _Now_."

The eighth time: "If you do not call me back _right_ fucking _now_, I _will_ go home, _rip_ your _innards_ out, and dance the tarantella on your fucking _entrails_, after which I _will_ find some way to resuscitate you so I can fucking _kill_ you _again_. Happy fucking trails, dickwad. And _call_."

The seventeenth time: "_Fuck _you, you ass. I'm breaking up with you. We're through. You _obviously _don't think I'm important enough to return my calls, so guess what? _Fuck you_. Have a shitty life, bitch."

As soon as he slammed the phone shut and his phone had started another round of weeping, the all-too-familiar tone of "Peacock" blasted from the phone and Mello, pissed beyond belief, held the phone to his ear and snarled, "_What_?"

"Mels?"

Oh.

Well.

Fuck. Just... just _fuck_.

"Yes?" he squeaked, clearing his throat. "I mean, yeah?"

"Sorry I missed all your calls, but since ya took my car today I had to take the motorcycle. And I got lost 'cause your bike doesn't have GPS. I would've answered, but I couldn't. I hope you're not mad."

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. "O-Of course not, Mattie!" he replied, way too cheery to not freak Matt out a little. "I _totally _understand; in fact, since you called me back, there's no reason to listen to all those pesky messages I left."

"Messages?" Matt asked, confused. "I didn't know ya left me any messages. I should prob'ly go through 'em to delete 'em—"

"I love you."

That caught Matt off-guard. "What?"

"I said don't worry about it. I'll, uh, delete them when I get home. So. Yeah." Awkwardly, Mello bit the inside of his cheek and said, "Well, bye!" hanging up as Matt tried to ask more about the subject.

The first thing he did was close the phone—gently, for once, and his phone thanked him greatly. Then he looked at his half-completed napkin Gaga and sighed, reopening his phone and going through his contacts to find the number for the anger management center.

It was probably for the best.


	77. Saturday night

**SUNDAY, 8:07 A.M.**

_The morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

Bed sheets rustle loudly in the almost silent room as Matt murmurs something in his sleep and snuggles more into Mello, neither of them the wiser as to what's happening. Somewhere deep down they had known last night that their actions would lead them to their current situation, but they certainly couldn't have predicted the exact scenario. On the other side of Mello, Jason curls up more on Mace—how he isn't squishing the noticeably smaller blond is a miracle—and snorts unbecomingly as Mace, unaware of his own movements, hooks his calf behind Mello's knee.

The bed they're occupying is barely big enough to fit two people comfortably, let alone four fully-grown males, so it only makes sense that they're lying on each other and forgetting about personal space. Were they awake and not hung over, heads would be rolling; instead, they just sleep on and move closer together.

They'll talk about what happened last night when they wake. It'll probably make for some interesting results.

Matt sighs and kicks a leg.

—

**SATURDAY, 7:13 P.M.**

_The night before the morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

"Um, I don't know about this…" Jason said nervously, biting his bottom lip and staring at the door to the bar. His hazel eyes darted back and forth between Mello, who looked to be getting slightly irritated; Matt, who just smiled his crooked smile and waved a hand dismissively; and Mace, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I've never, you know, been drinking before."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Obviously, cream puff. You just turned twenty-one today. Now quit being a pussy and get your ass inside the bar so you can have a good fucking time. Jesus."

Matt gave Mello a playful shove. "Lay off 'im, Mels," he said, laughing. "He's a firstie and prob'ly doesn't wanna do anythin' stupid."

"We're not gonna do anything stupid," Mace reassured him, rubbing Jason's shoulder fondly. Thank God he grew out of his short teenage years, because if he hadn't reached five-foot-ten he'd never have been able to do that. "We're just gonna have some fun, alright? Nothing too big."

Still chewing on his lip, Jason looked down at Mace and said, "Promise?" He stuck out his pinky.

Linking pinkies, Mace smiled, nodded, and said, "Promise. Now let's head inside."

—

**SUNDAY, 8:18 A.M.**

_The morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

The light needs to shut the fuck up and piss off.

Mace shuts his eyes tighter as sunlight streams through the blinds and stripes the room in light, ever so awesomely shining right in his eyes because of his position. But as much as he doesn't want to open his eyes, he has to figure out what the weight on his chest is. So he chances cracking an eyelid open and almost screams at the sight, biting down on his knuckle.

It's Jason.

Holy _shit_. What happened last night?

Taking a few calming breaths, Mace's blue eyes look down and to the side to see Mello and Matt wrapped up in each other and he stifles a laugh before remembering his own predicament. And as much as he's enjoying this deep down like the closet pervert he is, he needs to get Jason off of him so he doesn't flip out when he wakes up.

Because really, four shirtless guys in one bed doesn't exactly exude innocence and oh-no-nothing-happened-what-are-you-talking-about very well.

Unfortunately, Jason's a lot heavier than he looks, and Mace—who can normally lift almost twice his own weight—can't move him. He's just one hundred and eighty something pounds of pure dead weight.

Shit.

Resigning to his fate of not being able to untangle himself, Mace leans back against the pillow and places a hand on Jason's head, stroking his messy bed-head hair. He might as well use the time to think up excuses, but nobody said he can't enjoy this while it lasts.

But seriously, what the fuck happened last night?

—

**SATURDAY, 7:30 P.M.**

_The night before the morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

"C'mon."

Jason stared unblinkingly at the bottle of beer Matt had ordered and set down in front of him, grimacing. "I… I don't know, guys. I don't think I can—"

"It's not every day you turn twenty-one, bro," Mace said, clapping his best friend on the back and letting his hand linger longer than friendly boundaries allowed. "Just live a little."

"I just don't think it's the smartest idea," Jason argued, sliding the bottle closer to himself and circling the mouth with his fingertip. "You've seen me when I'm loaded up on sugar… what if it's worse when I drink?"

"Then just don't get drunk, dumbass," Mello said offhandedly, picking up his own bottle and shrugging before taking a swig. "Just one beer won't kill you. Even Frodo, with his tiny-ass body, could handle more alcohol than just one beer. I doubt you're _that _much of a lightweight."

He still wasn't sold. "But I don't know if the benefits really outweigh the risks here! I'm… I'm not really a big risk-taker, and this is a pretty big risk!"

Sighing, Matt grabbed two cigarettes out of the box in his pocket and handed one to Jason. "Think of it this way: bein' adventurous and livin' boringly are these two cigs. Go on and try to break that one." Easily, Jason snapped it in half. "Now I'm gonna snap mine while bein' careful." All Matt did was hold the cig delicately between his fingers, making no effort to break it. "See? If ya don't give an effort, nothin' gets done."

Gingerly, Jason picked up the bottle and swished the contents around a few times before saying, "Well, here goes," and raising the bottle to his lips.

—

**SUNDAY, 8:41 A.M.**

_The morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

Mello's in bed with three other people. That much is obvious.

He doesn't need to open his eyes to know that the one sleeping on him and making a fucking pillow of him is Matt—he spent enough time in fourth grade beating on the poor redhead to know what he felt like, five o' clock shadow or not. The identities of the other two occupants are less obvious to him, but he assumes that it's Jason and his little bastard of a friend.

If he screwed either of them, he's never going to live it down.

And when he finally opens his eyes and turns his head, he's disappointedly surprised to see Mace grinning smugly at him. He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "The fuck do you want, freak show?"

"Right now, a toilet," Mace answers, "but I'd really like to know why the hell we're in the same bed. Last night's a bit of a blur for me; it seems I didn't inherit the German tolerance for alcohol like my cousins did."

"And this is me not giving a fuck."

"Well, you may want to find a fuck to give, because this isn't looking like the most chivalrous situation, _if you know what I mean_." Stiffly, Mace motions to Jason and goes back to petting him like some sort of fucking dog. "I really don't need him freaking out."

Mello really, really just wants to bury his fist in Mace's face. Always has. But he just snorts and says, "It's not like he'll have a Big Gay Freakout or anything. What the fuck are you doing in my room, anyway?"

But it's not his room. He knows that. He just doesn't care.

Although he doesn't quite recognize the wallpaper—pastel pink with teddy bears and balloons—he doesn't feel like finding out whose room it is. He just wants to know why he's there and what he did with Matt last night.

He hopes it was awesome.

—

**SATURDAY, 9:34 P.M.**

_The night before the morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

"Y'know what?" Jason suddenly said through gritted teeth, nursing his sixth beer. "I'm sick of this. Just sick of it all."

Luckily, the others were just as inebriated as he was. "Sick of what?" Matt slurred, ignoring the advances of a rather pretty blonde girl with pigtails and crucifix earrings to play with Mello's hair.

"This… this _shit_."

Mace choked on his drink. Did Jason seriously just _swear_? Sweet, innocent, oblivious, pacifistic _Jason_? "Wh-What do you mean, dude?" he asked, hoping he heard wrong. Tainted words should never come out of someone's mouth if they were as perfect as Jason.

"Life!" he responded, exasperated. One of his hands clutched the bottle while the other ran through his shaggy brown hair. "I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize that the world sucks ass! It's all like, wow, this is shit, and… and I'm so stupid that I didn't see it! God!"

Apparently he'd been yelling, because another one of the bar patrons—some brown-haired dude with a snazzy suit and amber eyes—called over with, "Hey, buddy! Keep your stupid ramblings to yourself! Some of us are trying to have conversations!" The girl he'd been talking to, a black-haired girl with a prestigious air about her, looked embarrassed.

Taking another drink from his bottle, Jason swallowed, stood up, pointed at the man, and said, "Fuck you, sir! I'm trying to talk with my friends here and you calling me out only makes you look like the asshole, so shut up! Why don't you go back to chatting up that trust-fund baby you're entertaining and leave us alone?"

The man gaped. Matt stared in shock. Mello looked uninterested. Mace blushed, unused to seeing Jason like that and feeling incredibly… turned on. Maybe it was the alcohol talking and whispering in his ear, but Mace couldn't remember a time when Jason had ever looked hotter—his cheeks were flushed with rage, his eyes were manic, and his upper lip was curled up in a sneer.

And, hot damn, he was attractive.

So Mace let go of any and all inhibitions he had and set his beer down on the counter. Right after Jason sat back down, he spun him around, said, "That was fucking hot," and kissed the daylights out of his wasted best friend.

It was epic.

—

**SUNDAY, 9:53 A.M.**

_The morning after Jason's 21__st__ birthday_

First of all, they're all still lying in the bed for some reason. They'll address that later.

The real problem at hand is why Linda's sitting in the chair at the boudoir, looking like she knows something. It's been pre-established that they're in her apartment and her bed—which Mello deduced when she walked into the room with a tray of glasses of O.J. and scrambled eggs—but she's yet to tell them exactly why.

So Matt pops the question, still cuddled up to Mello. "Why exactly are we in your apartment, Lin?" he asks, taking a bite of Mello's eggs.

"Because you," she pointed at Mace, "drunk-texted me and I figured it was probably a good idea to come pick you up before you made complete fools of yourselves. I offered to let you use some sleeping bags, but you all just flopped into the bed."

"S-So we didn't, you know… _do _anything?" Jason pipes up, embarrassed and trying to hide his face in Mace's chest.

Linda smiles good-naturedly. "Nope. Your V-card's still intact, Jason."

Matt sighs. "That's a good thing to know."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you two."

Fuck.

"What do you mean?" Mello asks, intrigued but covering it with confusion.

The grin she gives is more than a bit unsettling. "You two couldn't keep your hands off each other. In fact, when I stopped by the bar to pick you up, you guys were out back and Matt had his hand down your pants. But hell, you two put on quite a show, so I let you finish."

"Yeah, but did we actually have sex?" Mello inquires, hopeful.

"No, but if you hadn't passed out you would've," she replies cheerfully, giggling. "So, anyway, you four owe me dinner, a movie, and a new pair of Jimmy Choos."

"Why?" Mace wonders, furrowing his eyebrows.

Standing up, Linda grabs the glasses and plates and sashays out of the room, stopping in the doorway to toss, "Because I gave up a date to pick you up and Jason threw up on the pair I was wearing yesterday," over her shoulder with a wink and a playful laugh.

—

**BONUS**

"I really thought we'd fucked," Mello says as they lock their apartment door behind them, and Matt thinks that he misses seeing Mello shirtless. "It was kind of disappointing to find out otherwise."

"Ya still wanna?"

Mello raises an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

With a gulp, Matt nods. "Yeah. Why not?"

And that's how Matt finds himself pressed against the wall outside their bedroom with Mello's hands in his hair and newly-familiar lips on his. Then Mello pulls back and gives him this look of wanting, and Matt smiles and kisses him again, and from then on is history.

Their neighbors wish it could _be _history.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Holy crap, I'm a terrible person. Henrietta's trilogy is evolving into something more, which is part of the reason I haven't been updating, but I'm also a senior in high school and looking at colleges and stuff has been time-consuming. Karate picking up hasn't helped much, so I've had little free time.

So enjoy this… thing while I work my tail off.

Ciao.


	78. Drunk text

Matt  
[+2122245649]

its soooo loud lololololol whyyyyyyy

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Damn it, Matt. Don't fucking text me when you're drunk. Asshole.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

hahahahhaa ur so mean mels i justt wanna talkkk

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Well, I have no intentions of texting an idiotic drunkard. So please, stop texting me and get a fucking taxi. Don't you dare think about driving.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

dun wanna go home yet 2 much fun lololol girls all over meeeee awesome

Mello  
[+2123590047]

I don't care how many chicks there are: get your ass home.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

noo

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Yes.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

nooooooooooo

Mello  
[+2123590047]

NOW.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

nuh uh im haveing 2 much fun n theres so much 2 drink lol in hevan

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Say what you want. Just get your pasty white ass home now.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

cant leave nooow gettin intresting :) :) u no u wanna come chek it outt :) :) :)

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Nothing you say can make me go there, Matt. I don't do bars, I promised Misa I'd lay off the alcohol, and I really don't think you're fucking worth it. So shut up.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

i luv u

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Nope.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

girlsssssssss lots of girlys

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Still no.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

music u like music rite

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Unsurprisingly, still a no.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

lolol im like 1 drink from gayyyy

Mello  
[+2123590047]

…I'll be right there. Ready a beer for me.

—

—

Matt  
[+2122245649]

ow. the light. it burns. the fuck did i do last night?

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Unabridged, or digest?

Matt  
[+2122245649]

er, unabridged, i guess.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

First, you went out drinking for some damn reason, then you got drunk as all fuck and decided to text me like some retarded asshat. Shit went down, I learned your grammar skills are marginally worse when you're trashed, and you made out with the bartender.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

doesn't sound too bad. was she hot?

Mello  
[+2123590047]

…'she' had a dick. And, from what I heard from the other bar patrons, you really got into it.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

shit.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

That's putting it lightly. Mayhaps it's time for you to come out of that goddamn closet?

Matt  
[+2122245649]

bitch, i ain't gay. i was DRUNK. alcohol is like a sexuality filter that decides that anything on two legs with a pulse is available for sex.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

More than just a river in Egypt.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

fuck you.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

You almost did.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

WHAT. WHAT.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Did I stutter, Mattles?

Matt  
[+2122245649]

THE FUCK. DUDE. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME STRAIGHT UP. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU GAIN FROM THIS.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Blackmail material, funny memories, and a story for Misa the next time she visits the apartment.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

DAMN IT. ALSO, I CAN'T CHANGE THE LETTER CASE. MY PHONE IS A PIECE OF SHIT, AND SO ARE YOU. NEXT TIME I DO SOMETHING STUPID, STOP ME, OR AT LEAST LET ME KNOW AS SOON AS I'M SOBER. GODDAMN. IT'S SIMPLE COURTESY.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Whatever. Keep on bitching. But just know that it won't get rid of your vagina.

Matt  
[+2122245649]

GO FUCK A HORSE, MELS. JUST BE THANKFUL THAT I'M A FANTASTIC KISSER WHILE DRUNK.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

I'll agree with that. Oh, I'm at the grocery store. What do you need?

Matt  
[+2122245649]

POP-TARTS AND LUCKY CHARMS. THANK YOU. ALSO SOME ADVIL, BECAUSE MY HEAD HURTS LIKE A BITCH.

Mello  
[+2123590047]

Aye-aye. Now get your lazy ass out of bed and shower. You reek of tequila and sexuality denial.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Miss me? :D

Good news: I GOT ACCEPTED INTO COLLEGE! I'M GONNA BE A CORNHUSKER!

Bad news: Unfortunately, that means less updates, as I'm working my ass off to get some major scholarships.

Oh, well. Sacrifices must be made.


	79. Bracelets

Matt was bored.

Well, maybe _bored_ was putting it lightly, but he'd reached the point where he had nothing better to do but freeze the flames in the fireplace, wait for Mello to unfreeze it, have Linda scoff at him while she did God only cared what, then refreeze the fireplace. And, damn, even Near was bored, pushing his dominoes around the top of the coffee table thoughtlessly as he sprawled out on his back on the floor, scooting away from Mello's kicking foot as the blond hmphed and turned the page in his book. "Mels," Matt sighed, freezing the fire again, "I'm bored as fuck. Can't we do something fun for once? I mean, there's an entire downtown out there with plenty of shit to do. 'Etta can get us there and back before Roger even realizes we're gone!"

"Matt, the reason we _are_ stuck inside is _because_ you went gallivanting last month without permission," Near replied matter-of-factly, flicking his finger and sending a domino in Matt's direction.

"And it was _you_, dumbass, that caused us to lose television privileges for three months with your 'genius plans,' so why would we want to risk losing anything more?" Mace tossed him a Look and went back to subtly trying to get Jason's attention away from Ellie and back on him. He would've succeeded if Jason hadn't blushed and taken advantage of his abilities of invisibility. Damn.

Pouting, Matt brushed the domino off his lap and shifted his position on the couch so he was closer to Mello, but far enough to avoid touching him. He'd learned when he first met Mello that touching him in any way caused excruciating pain to the both of them, so he reluctantly kept enough of a distance between them to ensure that didn't happen. "Why don't you ever want to hang out with me anymore?"

Mello sighed and dropped his book on Near, delighting in the noise of pain the telekinetic made. "Do you realize how fucking _hard_ it is just being your friend, Matt?" Mello replied, leaning his elbow on the armrest and looking at Matt with a raised eyebrow. "I'm freezing my ass off just sitting on the same couch as you. What makes you think we can hang around each other all the damn time?"

"I… I'm sorry," Matt said, inching back to the other side of the couch and pulling his knees up to his chest. "I just thought that—"

"_¡Las pulseras!_" Ellie cried out, jumping up from her seat at the chess table with Jason and rushing over to Matt, dropping onto her knees on the floor in front of him and fishing through her pocket for something. "_¡Las pulseras! ¡Las pulseras! ¡Las pulseras, Matt! ¡Mostrarle las pulseras!_" she insisted, finding what she was searching for and handing them to Matt.

Matt turned the metal rings in his hands and sucked his cheeks in. "Here," he said dejectedly, handing Mello one of the bracelets. "I made them so we could hang out more. If I made 'em right, then they'll neutralize the effect I have on you and you have on me. If not… painsville. Go ahead and put it on."

"When the hell did you find time to make these?" Mello asked, inspecting the bracelet before slipping it over his hand and shaking his wrist out to get used to its weight.

"Do you remember the three months I spent in Romania?"

Oh. "Oh," was the simple response. "I see."

"Yeah." Matt scratched his cheek and twisted the bracelet around his wrist. "Do you, um, wanna see if they work? Ellie can help if anything goes wrong."

Mello shrugged. "Why not?"

Inhaling sharply, Matt slowly reached a finger out, holding it above Mello's hand for the longest moment before taking the plunge and pressing his fingertip to the back of the proffered hand and sighing in relief when burning heat _didn't_ shoot through his veins. It was a success; his bracelet did its job, and if the look on Mello's face said anything, they worked both ways.

"Finally," Mace breathed out, vocalizing what the entire population of Wammy's House for Gifted Children was thinking. "Well, now that the suspense is over, can we move on with our lives?"

So they did.

Linda went back to doing whatever it was she did, Mace went back to pining over Jason, Jason and Ellie went back to playing chess, Near went back to laying on the floor and controlling his dominoes from a distance, Matt went back to freezing and refreezing the fireplace, and Mello went back to reading and unfreezing the fire.

But Matt's hand stayed draped over Mello's until Roger called them for dinner.

* * *

**Author's Note:** GUYS I SWEAR I'M NOT DEAD. SENIOR YEAR HAS BEEN KICKING MY ASS SIX WAYS TO SUNDAY.

I'M STILL HERE.

JUST.

NOT AS MUCH.


	80. Life sucks

The last thing Mello remembered seeing was the steering wheel of the truck he was toting the Takada bitch around in. Obviously, he concluded that he was dead simply because he was 'conscious,' so to speak, and also because of the head wound he had and the rather nasty scorch marks all over his clothes.

But nowhere in there did an elevator make any goddamned sense.

Scowling, Mello crossed his arms over his chest and sniffed, glaring at the elevator doors as the unit traveled downward, jerking to a stop that made the car shake and caused Mello to temporarily lose his footing. "Son of a _bitch_," he muttered, stumbling to find his balance as the doors slid open and a familiar yet aggravating face grinned at him.

"Hey," Matt said, the numerous bullet holes peppering his torso speaking volumes about his current state of life. "So, we're dead, huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Mello pushed past him and exited the elevator, frowning at the endless waiting room full of other people waiting for… something. Mello had a pretty good idea of what they were waiting for, though; he just wanted some confirmation. "No shit, Sherlock. Where the hell are we?"

The grin vanished from Matt's face as he rubbed the back of his neck and flipped his bloody auburn bangs out of his (for once) goggle-less eyes. "Yeah, we're in Purgatory. And apparently we're waiting to see if we're headed to Heaven or Hell. I'm not putting my money on either one."

"Purgatory," Mello replied, and it wasn't a question.

"Yep. Purgatory."

Mello sighed. "I'm going to Hell." From the tone of his voice, Matt could tell that Mello had no doubts of this. "You're probably coming with me," he added, giving his partner-in-crime a 'you can't even deny this fact, asswipe' look.

Before Matt could respond, a voice—female, raspy like a smoker's, and probably belonging to a woman no older than thirty-five—rang out over the loudspeaker. "Now serving number 348,592,002,847,588,272,635,526,375,888,837,263,738. Please step up to the counter and receive your ticket."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot that I took a number for you," Matt said, fishing two paper slips out of his pocket and handing one to Mello.

The slip of paper read '#348,592,002,847,588,272,635,526,375,888,837,263,750,' and he assumed that Matt's was one number away in either direction. "Thanks, I guess," he replied flatly, pursing his lips as he looked around for someplace with two seats next to each other. He realized that they were stupidly far away from the counter, and truly just didn't give a shit because the fiery pits of torture, a.k.a. perdition, awaited him once his number was called.

All it was now was just a waiting game.

Matt plopped his ass down next to Mello and hummed "Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be" to himself while the woman on the intercom called the next number and the next number. Soon enough, she called 348,592,002,847,588,272,635,526,375,888,837,263,749 and Mello actually had to start paying attention.

"Now serving numbers 348,592,002,847,588,272,635,526,375,888,837,263,750 and 348,592,002,847,588,272,635,526,375,888,837,263,751. Please step up to the counter; there has been a discrepancy."

Wait.

What?

"Matt, get your lazy ass up. We're headed to the counter."

"Okay." Following blindly, even in death. What a loser.

When Mello grabbed Matt by the wrist and yanked him a step, he was surprised to find that within the timeframe of that one step he'd managed to make it all the way to the counter. Weird. "So, there's been a problem…" he squinted at the nametag on the receptionist's shirt, "…Nancy?"

She blinked, clearly not amused by Mello's attempts at smoothness. "Yes," she replied, tone dry. "There is a slight issue with both of your files."

"What's the issue?" Matt asked, scratching at the drying blood on his face.

"There are no files for either of you."

And _that _meant a big, fat _nothing _to either of them. "Which means…?" Mello prompted, raising his eyebrows.

Nancy blinked again. "It means that you do not belong here. In layman's terms, you are not supposed to be dead. I will see you again when your time comes." She placed a hand on each of their foreheads and the world turned black.

—

The first taste of resurrection for Mello tasted awfully similar to asphalt mixed with motor oil, gasoline, dirt, and more likely than not bird droppings. Which, of course, was entirely disgusting and put quite a damper on what should have been a joyous mood. On the plus side, his head wasn't bleeding and his body was pristine, aside from the burn scars that God decided he deserved to have.

Oh, and the rocks that were digging into his palms. Can't forget the rocks.

Groaning, he pushed himself to his knees and stood up, kneading a crick out of the back of his neck and looking around. Matt was on his back about ten yards from Mello, but the lazy fuck didn't seem like he'd be getting up any time soon. "It's kinda nice," Matt spoke up, breaking the silence that hung in the air of whatever backwater town Nancy decided to dump them in. "Coming back. We have the chance to start over; make different decisions. We have a second chance, Mels."

"What's all this 'we' shit, Matt?"

That got his attention. Matt pulled himself to his feet and looked at Mello as if the blond had grown an extra limb, started speaking Welsh, and performed a Bulgarian folk dance. "I mean that we're in this together," he answered, narrowing his green eyes as Mello brushed himself off. "We're partners. A team. Fucking _co-dependent on each other _and we're together 'til the end. Aren't we?"

The bitterness in Matt's tone made Mello flinch a little, and he replied, "So we're 'close.' Look where that got us. But just because you and I pal around with each other doesn't mean we're attached at the damn hip or something. Take your fucking 'second chance' and do something with it."

Mello turned to walk away and Matt scrambled into action, striding over to him and grabbing his shoulder to turn him around. "_Fuck you_, you heartless _asshole_," he seethed, teeth clenched. "You're _not_ fucking _walking away_ from me _again_, you hear? I _let you _run away from me five years ago at Wammy's, and I'm _not _making that same mistake again."

"You don't _own me_, Matt," Mello responded coldly, shaking Matt's hand off his shoulder. Blue eyes harsh, he glared at his old roommate and whipped around, heading away from Matt.

After Mello went a few paces, Matt shouted out, "You were the first person who ever treated me like I mattered, you know that?" but the most it did was slow Mello's pace almost imperceptibly. "You made an effort to give a shit, when you could've just as easily ignored me and left me to my own problems. But you didn't. And because of that, you were my best fucking friend!"

Mello's footsteps faltered, but he didn't stop completely until Matt uttered the _coup de gr__â__ce_.

"And you know what else? I fucking _loved you_!"

There it was, out in the open. Fists balled at his sides, Mello inhaled shakily and shut his eyes tightly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

Matt laughed once, a hollow sound. "Yeah, that's right," he said, smirking mirthlessly. "I _loved_ you. I loved you when you shared your bed with me that month when we were ten and I had really bad nightmares. I loved you when we used to pull pranks on Near to see if he really _did_ have emotions. I loved you when you sacrificed your time to just sit around with me and do nothing. Hell, I even loved you when you packed your bags and _left_. And I _kept_ loving you during the five years you didn't even _try_ to contact me once and I loved you when you _finally_ called to say you _blew yourself the fuck up_. And _because_ I loved you, I agreed to help you with your fucked up problems. But you just _don't fucking get it_, do you?"

"No, _you_ don't fucking get it!" Mello snarled back, turning around to meet a pair of furious green eyes across the empty parking lot. "I never wanted any of this to happen! Why do you think I left you alone for five years? Why do you think I tried to keep you out of everything? I never wanted you to get involved with this shit, Matt, but after the explosion I knew, I fucking knew, I couldn't do this without you!"

Watching Mello move forward, Matt gulped and felt his eyes widen. "Mels…" he breathed out, shockingly loud in the unusually still night.

"Every precaution I took," Mello continued, "every minute I spent distancing myself from you, everything, was to keep you safe." His voice softened as he stepped closer, almost too hard to hear through Matt's heartbeat pounding in his ears. "But even that wasn't enough. I got you _killed_. And I can't let that happen again."

"So, what, then?" Matt asked, forcing down the lump in the back of his throat. "I let you walk away from me again and we both just pretend that we never met? I pretend like you aren't my best friend, and you pretend like you don't actually give a shit about me? Doesn't sound like a very fun plan, you know."

"Yeah, well, life sucks like that, doesn't it?" Wordlessly, Mello pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and pressed it into Matt's chest before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Matt alone in the parking lot with the phone in his hand.

Looking down at the ground, Matt closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah," he mumbled to himself, "life sucks like that."


	81. Chat

*** Mattles joined #thefuckery

*** mace_in_the_face joined #thefuckery

**[Mattles] **{youtube video}

**[Mattles]** OH MY GOD

**[Mattles]** WHAT

**[Mattles]** THE

**[Mattles]** HELL

**[Mattles]** ARE

**[Mattles]** MY

**[Mattles]** FEELINGS

**[Mattles]** DOING

**[Mattles]** WHAT ARE EMOTIONS

**[mace_in_the_face] **I DUNNO

**[mace_in_the_face] **I THINK THEY HURT

**[Mattles]** ALL I KNOW IS SARCASM

**[mace_in_the_face] **YES

**[mace_in_the_face] **SARCASM IS MY NATIVE TONGUE

**[mace_in_the_face] **PASSED DOWN THROUGH GENERATIONS OF BULLSHITTERS

**[Mattles]** ^

**[Mattles]** SHIT I LEARNED SARCASM ON MY OWN

**[Mattles]** NO LINEAGE

**[Mattles]** I AM A HIPSTER

**[mace_in_the_face] **BITCH I WAS SARCASTIC IN THE WOMB

**[Mattles]** HILARIOUS

**[mace_in_the_face] **FUCKIN' TELLING THAT FETAL LINING OFF, MAN

**[mace_in_the_face] **HELLS YEAH

**[Mattles]** BITCH Y U MAKE ME LAUGH

**[Mattles]** THAT'S NOT FUNNY

**[mace_in_the_face] **I WAS INSULTING THE OTHER KIDS AT THE PRESCHOOL BEFORE I EVEN KNEW WHAT I WAS INSULTING THEM ABOUT

**[Mattles]** AWWWW YIRRRRRRR

**[mace_in_the_face] **I MAKE YOU LAUGH BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT GOD MADE ME FOR

**[mace_in_the_face] **SINCE I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE

**[mace_in_the_face] **'CEPT BITCH AND MOAN

**[Mattles]** AND YELL

**[mace_in_the_face] **SURE

**[mace_in_the_face] **WE'LL GO WITH THAT

**[mace_in_the_face] **›_›

**[mace_in_the_face] **‹+‹

**[Mattles]** OH GOD

**[Mattles]** CROSSHAIR NOSE

**[mace_in_the_face] **I PHAILED

**[mace_in_the_face] **WITH A PH

**[mace_in_the_face] **WHAT THE PHUCK

**[Mattles]** PHD

**[Mattles]** IN FAIL

*** melloyello joined #thefuckery

**[melloyello] **holy shit, guys. what the fuck is going on?

**[mace_in_the_face] **mfw matt's boifrand crashes the party

**[mace_in_the_face] **lolololol

**[mace_in_the_face] **i'll leave you two alone and go bother jason

**[mace_in_the_face] **bye

*** mace_in_the_face left #thefuckery

**[melloyello] **…

**[Mattles]** …

**[melloyello] **…

**[Mattles]** …

**[melloyello] **…

**[Mattles]** …

**[melloyello] **…you wanna go catch a movie?

**[Mattles]** sure. why not.

**[Mattles]** but we're going to the drive-in.

**[Mattles]** because of reasons.

**[melloyello] **paying no attention at all to the movie and making out in the back of your car reasons?

**[Mattles]** do you even need to ask?

**[Mattles]** of course.

**[melloyello] **then why the fuck aren't you here five minutes ago?

**[Mattles]** …

**[Mattles]** be right there.

**[melloyello] **don't make me wait, assmunch.

*** Mattles left #thefuckery

*** melloyello left #thefuckery


End file.
